


Catch and Release

by Inamorada



Series: The Bat and the Crow [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 47,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inamorada/pseuds/Inamorada
Summary: Jonathan Crane has walked free from Arkham and plans to leave his past far behind him. Others aren't so willing to let him. Batman on one side, criminals on the other- And how is he supposed to deal with a chance meeting with billionaire Bruce Wayne?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually wrote this about seven years ago, when I was but a baby writer. Its sequel I abandoned for many years but recently decided to finish. Both were posted to ff.net, but I thought I would bring them over here to bring my writing all to one place. I didn't proofread it much this time around, so any errors are from the original posting.

Jonathan Crane was being released from Arkham.

For two weeks prior to his first step into Gotham City, newspapers and stations discussed his release. The entire personnel of Arkham Asylum agreed that Crane was stable enough to be released- they did not mention that they needed as much space as they could get. They had far worse patients than Jonathan Crane.

His release raised controversy, to say the least. Most residents of Gotham remembered very clearly what he had done before being carted off to Arkham. No one wanted a repeat performance. One night of fear was more than enough. With the current situation, however, with Joker having just run off without a trace and Harvey Dent found dead, killed by the Batman, the people of Gotham were forced to admit that they had larger problems on their hands than Crane.

This was part of the reason why Jonathan Crane went into hiding. He stepped into Gotham City and out of the public view.

He found a suitable apartment in the Narrows. It was the best place he could find with the little money remaining in his possession- The ceiling did not leak (except for the west corner, but he had a bucket), the kitchen was furnished (who needs a dishwasher, anyway?), and the bathroom was clean (if you ignored the reddish smear that refused to wash off the wall next to the shower). All in all, it was a decent place.

And now it was Jonathan's.

It took slightly longer to find a job. He found himself in a cafe run by people who either never read the news or just plain did not give a shit. As long as he kept the customers happy and served the coffee still hot, they did not care if it was the Batman himself in their employment.

Jonathan fell into a simple routine. And, surprisingly, he liked it. As long as Scarecrow stayed quite, life was going well. Oh, sure, there were those few times when Scarecrow saw the little girl crying on the side of the street and wanted to see just how loudly she could wail. For days after that Jonathan stayed indoors, calling in sick until he was sure he could go out again.

"Oof."

He collapsed, exhausted, onto the bed and promptly winced as his back met the revealed spring. Only one on the entire mattress, and he had to hit it. He rolled over onto his stomach, away from the treacherous metal.

It had been a long day. A waiter had called in ill- a waiter with double shift. Jonathan had offered to take up both since he was there anyway. The managers were pleased and kept him for the rest of the day. Now, however, that he could let the charming smile fall from his face, he nearly regretted it. If it weren't for the fact that he needed to pay rent soon, on top of filling his fridge again, he would have offered to take only one shift.

He had briefly considered going back to producing and selling his drug. Scarecrow had absolutely loved the idea, but Jonathan was not so sure. He still remembered Batman spraying it into his own face, the figures that haunted him for weeks after. A shudder involuntarily passed through him, shaking the bed.

So no, he could not possibly do that again.

Jonathan Crane, free man, ex-psychologist, stayed exactly where he was and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter One

A lack of customers was, upon occasion, a fantastic bonus to the workday. It gave Jonathan a chance to sit down for the moment, perhaps even strike up conversation with a fellow employee.

The same waiter from the day before was ill. Jonathan barely hesitated before agreeing to stay the extra few hours. It certainly did not hurt that the managers promised him a small monetary bonus.

"Have you lived around here long, Jon?" An enthusiastic waitress leaned on the counter next to him. She glanced down at the glass counter and at the pastries and other other assorted baked goods below. With a sort of nervous chuckle, she stood straight and wiped the glass with her white blouse.

Jonathan looked over her. "...Yes." Maybe she did not know who had been behind what residents now called "Fear Night." Or maybe- and Jonathan truly hoped this to be the case- the three months that had passed since he walked out of Arkham had begun to erase memories.

She gave him a million-watt smile. "Do you think you could show me around sometime? I haven't been here very long..."

"Yeah?" He tried to be interested. "Where did you live before you came?"

Just as she went to speak, the street door opened. In walked a man hiding his face in a scarf, snow sticking to dark hair. The waitress next to Jonathan stood straight, taking a small step away from Jonathan.

The newcomer pulled his scarf down from its position over his mouth and flashed a smile. He stopped at the counter in front of Jonathan, seemingly uninterested in sitting and eating. Instead he looked at the bakery items, flashing quick glances upwards.

Jonathan thought he recognized the man, but not personally. More like from the paper, but he could not immediately put a name to the face. He had been in Arkham for far too long. His coworker, however, obviously knew just who he was.

"Can we help you Mr. Wayne?"

As soon as she said the name Jonathan recognized him. Bruce Wayne looked up from his careful perusal of the packages to smile at her. "I was simply looking for enough muffins to feed a board meeting."

Jonathan spoke before she could. "We can package a larger quantity, if you would prefer."

Deep eyes met brilliant blue ones. "That would be excellent."

The waitress turned and went into the kitchens to pack said muffins. Jonathan looked down when Wayne refused to look away. "Is that all for today?"

"Yes."

"Um.." The waitress peeked out of the kitchen. "Just how many of these do you need?"

Wayne's lips moved, but Jonathan could not hear the answer. He stared down through the glass.

That look.. as if he knew. Jonathan had slowly adjusted to not seeing that in everyone's gaze.

The waitress walked out and set the bx on the counter. "That'll be twenty dollars and seventeen cents."

Jonathan turned away as Wayne pulled out his credit card. Another customer walked into the store, this one even more heavily scarved and wrapped than Wayne had been. Unlike Wayne, however, this man did not remove any of the fabric covering his face.

"Thank you." He heard Wayne say as the man passed the newcomer on his way out the door.

"Can I help you?" Jonathan smiled. He had appreciated the break- but now he wanted to keep his mind from thinking about that look.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Alfred." Bruce walked into the almost-finished Wayne Manor.

"There you are, Master Wayne. I trust your meetings went well?" Alfred walked into the foyer.

Bruce shrugged. "As well as I thought they would."

"Complete failure, sir?"

"Very close." Bruce unwrapped his scarf and unzipped his coat. "I saw someone interesting on my way, though."

Alfred reached for Bruce's coat and scarf. "And who would that be, sir?"

Bruce toed out of his shoes and followed Alfred into the next room. "Jonathan Crane. I thought he left Gotham after being released from Arkham."

Alfred hung the coat in a cupboard before turning to Bruce. "Perhaps he simply wishes to keep out of public view."

Bruce nodded. "Maybe." Or maybe not.

"Will you be going out tonight, Master Wayne?"

Bruce sighed an affirmative.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jonathan did not return to his apartment until late that night. After leaving the cafe in the afternoon, he had stopped at the bank and then the grocer's. Now he struggled to carry a week's worth of food up the many stairs into his apartment. Once he reached his door, he sighed and tried to balance them against the wall, resting on one leg, as he reached into his pocket for his keys.

One click and two near-drops later, Jonathan closed the door and set his bags on the floor. He locked the door before grabbing the bags and hauling them into the tiny kitchen. He pushed them onto the counter and reached for the switch.

He jumped as a hand covered his own. "Wh-who-"

"Crane." Jonathan knew that growl.

Jonathan lowered his hand to his side. "You. Of course."

Only hesitating for a moment, Jonathan turned in the dark to where he thought Batman stood. "Did you need something?"

"Just checking up." Came the growl from right beside of him.

Jonathan paused before asking. "May I turn on the light now? I do have groceries to put away."

When no answer came, Jonathan turned and did it anyway. He blinked at the sudden light as he turned back to Batman. "You checked on me. Is that enough?"

Jonathan opened the first bag and pulled open the fridge. He quickly put everything in before closing it.

"Be careful, Crane." Batman rasped.

Jonathan looked at him slightly incredulously. "I've nothing to worry about." But he looked away as he said it.

Crane left the rest of the groceries on the counter and escaped into the living room. He checked the bucket in the corner- snow had been melting and leaking in. It was nearly full; he made a note to empty it before going to bed.

'Can you go?" Jonathan turned to see his window open and Batman gone.

He sighed and closed the window. Before he did, though, he looked out into the night. "I've nothing to worry about." He whispered again to himself.

Jonathan turned away from the window resolutely and began to ready for bed. He had another long day ahead of him tomorrow.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"I searched his room but found nothing." Bruce confided in Alfred as he padded softly into the kitchen. "Maybe he is going clean. Or maybe he's keeping it somewhere else."

Alfred handed Bruce a cup of tea. "Give it time, sir."

Bruce smiled. "Go to bed, Alfred. You shouldn't wait up for me all the time."

As Alfred left the kitchen, he said to Bruce. "I have to be up in case you don't come home, Master Wayne."

Bruce frowned but drank his tea.


	3. Chapter Two

"Mr. Wayne's  _back."_ The excited waitress murmured to Jonathan.

Jonathan passed her as he carried two cups of the coffee to the couple in the corner. He did glance over, almost surprised. The cafe was both small and out of the way, tucked into a small street. Usually customers only arrived y word-of-the-mouth. Surely Gotham's Prince did not stay in circles that frequented the cafe?

"Thank you," Jonathan only smiled at the couple as they thanked him for their coffee. These two, for instance, had started coming after the woman's sister suggested it. Now they were regulars.

Jonathan passed by another table to make sure everything was going well. When he was met with large smiles and assurances that everything was perfect, he retreated t behind the counter. His companion stood pouring coffee for the billionaire.

"Good morning." Bruce Wayne greeted.

Jonathan nodded. "Good morning."

Bruce reached for the plastic cup as the waitress handed over the steaming coffee. "Do you need cream or sugar?"

"Just sugar, please."

Jonathan fetched a small handful of packets of sugar for him from on the counter. Only after he handed them to Wayne did it even register that the basket holding them sat right on the counter. Wayne could just as easily fetched them himself.

"Thanks." Wayne flashed Jonathan a million-watt smile.

Jonathan could not help but smile in return. "Of course."

Wayne paid for his coffee before hurrying out the door, glancing at his watch and frowning. Jonathan watched him go. As soon as he noticed he was watching, he looked down at the bakery selection. Deciding it was emptying, he hurried int the kitchen to package rolls and muffins.

He needed to distract himself. The voice and face seemed so familiar, as if he had seen them before. He knew for a fact he had never spoken with Bruce Wayne before leaving Arkham for good, and yet... It felt almost that he had, as if it had been in a dream.

The bakery restocked and diners content, Jonathan had nothing to distract him from wondering just where he could possibly have spoken with Bruce Wayne.

-.-.-.-.-

The day was not all that cold. True, there was some snow lying on the ground, but nothing new fell from the sky. The morning had arrived with a bit of hail, but that was the extent of it.

So Jonathan was justifiably surprised when a man walked in with a scarf wrapped around his face.

"Hello." Jonathan was the only one standing behind the counter. His usual companion sat in the kitchen on her lunch break. Fifteen more minutes and it would be Jonathan relaxing, his first meal of the day in his hand.

"Two coffees." The man's voice was partially muffled by the scarf, but he refused to take it off.

"Alright." Jonathan quickly turned to fill two cups. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man pocketing sugar packet after sugar packet. By the time Jonathan turned around the man was finished, the basket mostly empty.

"That'll be four dollars and twenty-three cents." Jonathan set the cups on the counter.

The man scrambled in his coat pockets for a moment. Jonathan looked over the coat. It looked as if it may have once been very nice, prim and proper. Now it simply looked filthy.

"Here we are." He pulled out a five.

Jonathan took the bill and opened the register. He began counting out change, but the man took the cups and turned towards the door.

"Don't you want your change?" Jonathan called after him.

The man barely turned. "Keep the change, Doctor."

Jonathan thought his knees were going to buckle. He gripped the counter for a moment, blinking. It had been quite a while since anyone had called him that.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_Fear Night._

_The toxin flooded the air, the people of Gotham all in the streets, fighting, both physically and orally. Gunshots filled the night._

_Scarecrow rode away, clutching his face where Rachel Dawes had harmed him. His horse raced forward, through crowds of people and gas._

_His face_ burned _. He did not think anything could hurt as much as that did. He reconsidered when Nightmare took a sharp turn, throwing him from her back. He hit the building lining the narrow alleyway, crying out in shock and pain. He curled up on himself, clutching at himself._

_It hurt._

_The ache in his face faded first. He raised his head and tore off his mask. It was Jonathan that looked out, eyes wet with tears, not Scarecrow. He held his side with one hand, his mask with the other, as he sat up. He clumsily stood, forcing back tears. He did not cry. He told himself that as a tear ran down his face. Deep breaths shuddered in his throat as he walked along._

_He was thankful that he was not found by Batman. Even hours later, when he was curled up in an abandoned building- he did not dare go to his apartment- he was safe. Batman had not found him._

_It was two months later that Batman did find him. Jonathan blamed himself for that, a little. He had returned to his old apartment in hope to gather up his possessions. He had barely gathered his books into a box when the window opened and the Batman entered the room. Jonathan automatically reached for Fear Toxin only to realize he no longer had any. Behind him were the notebooks detailing how to make it, but they did him little good._

" _Crane." Batman growled._

_Jonathan Crane was not a coward. When he looked upon Batman, however, he remembered the version he saw in the basement of Arkham, the Batman who had dared spray him with his own toxin._

_Jonathan backed up, nearly tripping over the box he had just been filling. "Batman." He was happy his voice did not show his fear._

" _I'm taking you to Arkham."_

" _Thanks for the warning." With that, Crane tore from the room._

_He should have known that Batman would not bother with the stairs. As soon as Jonathan stepped from the building and into the street, Batman was on him. Jonathan fell to the street and Batman landed beside him, hands out on Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan sprawled in the dirty street, angry and fearful._

" _Don't." Jonathan turned his head to look up at Batman. "Don't take me to Arkham.'_

_But Batman had not listened. Thirty minutes after seeing Batman in his apartment, Jonathan sat in his new room in Arkham, wearing only the standard uniform. He sat, glaring at the wall, as the new Administrator spoke to him. He did not hear a single word the man said. As if it mattered. Jonathan knew all so well what the Administrator said to new patients. It seemed to him that the employees were all too happy to suddenly look down upon their old Administrator._

" _Doctor." The Administrator had sneered that day, shaking his head and looking at the man sitting on the too-small bed._

_Jonathan Crane promised himself something that day. When -not if, when- he walked out of Arkham, he was leaving behind the toxin. He was not giving the Batman another reason to drag him to this place._


	4. Chapter Three

When Jonathan arrived home that evening, he knew something was wrong. He never even left his door unlocked, yet it was just closed enough to stay in that state. He pocketed the key he longer needed before carefully opening the door and switching on the light.

His carefully packed-away books sat haphazardly on the floor, assorted clothing strewn about the room. He looked around the room, still standing in the doorway. The book dangerously close to the leaky spot of the room caught his attention immediately. Jonathan rushed over and lifted it from the floor, thankful it had not suffered from any water.

" _Doctor."_  A voice dragged out the word behind him.

He whirled around, book still in hand. He blinked a moment before sidling towards the door.

"Joker."

Jonathan stood completely still as the Joker approached him. Blue eyes went to the man's hands, one in the open, the other hiding in his purple sleeve, undoubtedly clutching a blade. All Jonathan had was his book.

"Did you want something?" Jonathan wished he had anything else with him- even Scarecrow's mask would make him feel larger.

"Well, uh..." Joker stepped forward. "Yeah."

Jonathan frowned. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?"

Joker inched forward. Jonathan continued moving to the side, hand instinctively reaching for the canister of Fear Toxin he no longer carried. Suddenly carrying some around did not seem like such a terrible idea.

"Hm..." The Joker seemed to think about that for a moment.

Jonathan nearly rolled his eyes. "Alright then. You want something that someone else can't get for you."

"And Harley can get  _anything."_  Joker mused. His hidden hand slipped out of his sleeve. As Jonathan had thought, silver appeared with the flesh. Joker tapped his knife against his lips thoughtfully.

"Harley?" Jonathan was momentarily surprised. "She's out of Arkham?"

The Joker only looked at him condescendingly. Jonathan barely lifted one shoulder before dropping it.

"I should have guessed you would break her out."

Joker looked around Jonathan's room half-interestedly. "You are going to, uh, come with me."

Jonathan's eyebrows raised. "Why would I go with you?"

"Because." The Joker waited a moment before speaking again, Jonathan almost leaning forward in anticipation. "You are going to, ah,  _assist_ me."

Jonathan shook his head. "I don't think so." He clutched onto his book.

He was most definitely not going with the Joker. Jonathan had been doing so  _well_ , avoiding the temptation to mix up more Fear Toxin. If he did go with the Joker...

His fingers itched for the canister. He almost nodded, almost gave in.

But  _Batman._ And  _Arkham._

Arkham, where they filled him with pills until he could barely register the psychiatrists and doctors. He had sat on his bed for  _days_ before anyone noticed he was not being dramatic- he honestly  _could not move._

"No." Jonathan said strongly.

Joker's face twisted. Jonathan barely managed to jump to the side as Joker ran for him. Jonathan ran for the door, tearing it open before dashing down the hallway. He needed to find something to defend himself with. He could take on the Joker if he were  _prepared,_ if he had-

"C'mon, Jonny." Joker called after him.

Jonathan took the stairs three at a time, jumping and sliding his way to the ground floor. Wide blue eyes looked back and forth. How could there be  _nothing?_

He ran out int the alleyway, scanning the street. All his air escaped his lungs as his chest made contact with the filthy ground, Joker straddling his back. Fingers twisted in dark hair, pulling Jonathan's head back. Jonathan winced but refused to let any pained sounds escape.

"Be a good boy, Scarecrow." the Joker whispered in the man's ear.

_Scarecrow's not here right now._

Jonathan bucked against the Joker, flinching as silver flashed and rested against his throat. He stilled, fingers clenching and unclenching in the mud beneath him.

" _Joker."_

Jonathan very nearly wanted to hide in the mud at the sound of that voice, full of anger and impatience.

"Batsy!"

Jonathan was thankful his mouth was closed the moment Joker pushed his head back down to the alley floor. He felt pressure as Joker pushed off him to stand before Joker was gone. Jonathan sat up slowly, wiping off his face in disgust. He knelt in the mud, trying to find a clean expanse of sleeve to clean off with.

He held his glasses in one hand, thankful they had not broken. He slid them on in time to see the Joker cross his line of sight. Black followed then stopped.

" _Crane."_

Jonathan looked up into the emotionless eyes of the Bat. Batman crouched down, reaching out with one hand and wiping away crusting slime. Jonathan averted his gaze and stood. Batman stood with him.

"Joker?" Jonathan questioned.

"Running." Batman watched as Jonathan vainly wiped himself off.

Jonathan finally stopped trying, face twisted in a mixture of indistinguishable emotions. "I'll be going then."

He had barely taken two steps towards his apartment building when Batman grabbed his shoulder. Jonathan instinctively stiffened, fingers curled around an invisible container.

"Why did the Joker come after you?"

Jonathan shrugged off Batman's hand as he turned to face him.  _He doesn't scare me... he doesn't..._ He repeated in his head. This was not the Batman he saw while dosed with Fear Toxin.

No, this was just the Batman who  _had dosed him with his own toxin._

Jonathan found himself growing angry. "I suppose he wanted tea."

"Crane." Batman rasped warningly.

Jonathan looked around the alleyway before looking back to Batman. "He wanted me to assist him with something."

"What?"

"I don't know!" Jonathan spat.

They stood in silence. Finally Jonathan took a breath and headed back into his building.

Batman stood and watched.

Jonathan threw a glance over his left shoulder to see Batman watching. He rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.


	5. Chapter Four

Jonathan stumbled into his apartment, face showing all his disgust at the mud and grime coating his front. He walked across the room into his small bedroom and switched on the lamp beside his bed. He had barely made it into his tiny bathroom before he began stripping off damp cloth and dropping it into a pile. He subconsciously dubbed this pile the "Deal with Later" pile. It seemed like a good idea.

His shower lasted twice as long as usual. True, that was not saying much- he hated spending any more money than necessary. A long shower every night sounded excellent, but he could not risk it. Should anything go wrong with his job at the cafe, he would be out of luck. The apartment was not great, but he wanted to stay.

He stopped for a moment. Water ran over him still, but he remained unmoved. Yes, he really  _did_ want to stay. He continued shampooing his hair for the second time as he thought.

The apartment was the worst place in which he had ever stayed. And yet he could not possibly imagine living anywhere else. He was surrounded by all of his books, had warm water and a decently insulated room. He could walk to work- now that was definitely a plus.

He was oddly fond of his cheap apartment.

Jonathan rinsed the lather from his hair, shaking off attachment to what had become his home. He switched off the water and frowned.

Batman knew where he lived.

He wrapped a ratty towel around his waist and stepped from the tiny shower. He looked in the mirror as he ran his fingers through his hair, still frowning to himself.

He liked it here too much to move.

He combed his hair slowly before slamming the comb down and stalking from the bathroom.

Joker knew where he lived.

Jonathan draped his towel over his desk chair. Now that was a problem.

_I could make more Fear Toxin. Then when he comes back..._

Jonathan pulled on black boxers He looked around the room once before sitting on his bed.

_I am not letting anyone force me out._

With that thought, he pulled back his covers and slipped between the sheets. He reached out to turn off the lamp, placing glasses delicately on the table, before laying back. He stared in the darkness at the ceiling, listening as his ceiling began to drip once more.

Jonathan Crane fell asleep almost instantly. He curled up between bare sheets, avoiding the broken spring. He did not want to think about what the Joker could possibly want him to do, when the Joker would be back.

Instead he slipped away from it all.

He had not really slept properly since being sprayed with his toxin. Most nights he twisted and turned, desperately reaching out to sleep.

But now he slept soundly.

_-.-.-.-._

He awoke promptly at four o'clock. One hand instinctively reached for his glasses as he sat up. His other hand ran over his forehead, pressing back tangled hair. Had it really been the whole night already? He looked over at the clock, blinking once, then twice. He had thought his alarm had gone off- looking at the clock told him differently. His alarm was set for seven, not four.

He instinctively looked around the room, trying to see in the darkness. He heard a rustle, then nothing.

"Hello?" He called in a sleep-ridden voice.

"Making sure you're safe."

Crane very nearly rolled his eyes and all but huffed. "You again?"

He blinked as his lamp switched on. He scooted away, across the mattress as Batman came into view, standing beside the bed. Jonathan's eyes narrowed.

"Joker didn't come back." Jonathan stated shortly. "May I sleep now? Some of us have to work tomorrow."

Jonathan looked over Batman. It was easy to remember that this was not the Batman of his hallucinations when given the time to look and see every difference. His eyes were drawn to the Bat's chin- the only piece that truly did look human.

_It's easy to forget there is a man under there._

"Just who are you, Batman?" Jonathan wondered aloud.

The Doctor noticed as Batman stiffened slightly. "Exactly who you see." He growled.

Jonathan's lips barely twisted into a smirk. "A challenge, then."

"If Joker comes back-"

"I'll be ready." Jonathan finished for him.

Had Jonathan been any more cowardly, he would have shrank at the look Batman gave him. His jaw was set, angles hard, face firm.

"Ready?" Batman growled. "Are you creating more Toxin, Crane?"

Jonathan said in a surprisingly pleasant voice. "You've already searched my apartment. Shouldn't you be able to answer that question?"

He almost thought he saw the tiniest trace of a scoff appear on Batman's face before the Bat turned away. Jonathan at completely still as Batman turned back towards him. It was harder to sit still when one gloved hand reached towards him.

"What do you want?" Jonathan snapped.

Batman slid the glasses from Jonathan's nose and set them on the table before switching off the light. Jonathan could barely see as Batman made his way to the window.

"Feel free to use the front door." Jonathan called as Batman leaped from the window.

Jonathan shook his head and nestled under his covers. Only once the room turned colder than usual did he curse the Batman and roll out of bed to close the window.

Jonathan rolled around between his sheets for one hour, fifteen minutes before sleeping.


	6. Chapter Five

"Are you okay?"

Jonathan looked up as the new waiter spoke. Jonathan struggled to remember the man's name for a moment but came up with nothing.

"Oh, he's fine." A female voice came from behind him. "Jonny gets moody sometimes."

Irritation flared before Jonathan could stop it. He turned to the waiter and waitress, angry words on the tip of his tongue.

He was not moody- he was  _exhausted._ Bats and Clowns seemed determined to keep him awake all night. Rather than explain any of that, he turned his back to them and stalked off to the cafe floor, leaving the annoyances behind the counter in favor of bouncing from customer to customer, inquiring after their food, their drink, their overall happiness.

He smiled charmingly at each customer- there were seven- before the door opened and in walked an eighth. Jonathan nearly expected Bruce Wayne- it was that time of day.

The newcomer was most certainly not Bruce Wayne. The woman was tall- almost incredibly so- with beautiful blonde hair. Sunglasses perched delicately on her straight nose. Her red dress fit her perfectly, the black handbag on her arm held just right. She walked calmly and purposefully to the counter.

"Table for two." She said in a clear voice.

"Two?" The new waiter questioned.

"My friend is running late." She smiled, as if at a personal joke.

"Jonathan!" The waitress called. "Two!"

He scanned the room once to find the best seat. He spied a small table by the windows lining the front wall.

He approached the woman with a bright smile on his face. "This way, miss."

She gave him a strange look before a grin crossed her face. He led her to the table, standing still as she slid her glasses off of her face and gave him a cheery grin, staring at him with piercing blue eyes.

"Hey Jonny." She said happily.

"Harley."

"Mister J said you'd be happy to see me. You're happy, aren't ya?"

She sat in her chair all-too primly. He stood a moment, forcing words through his lips. "What can I get for you?"

"I think I should wait for my friend first." She told him. "He'll be here any time."

Jonathan nodded and headed for the counter. He slid past the two chatting employees and into the kitchen.

"Need a special order, Jonathan?" The chef gave him a rosy smile.

"Oh, no." Jonathan passed her and opened the back door leading to the alley outside.

He ducked into the alley and closed the door. He leaned against the brick wall of the cafe and stared up into the cloudy sky. He shivered from the cold only once before the door cracked open and a voice called out. "Jonathan, dear, someone wants to see you."

"Have someone else take care of it."  _I'm tired of this._

"Jonathan." She drew out his name. "It's Bruce Wayne."

'So have someone else take care of it." Jonathan repeated.

"Jonathan! Honey, please." The chef finally came out the door and appeared in his view. "You know how much his patronage is helping us! He comes in with the largest orders I've seen in the fifteen years I've worked here."

Jonathan sighed and said. "Fine."

She held the door open for him. "Thanks, dear."

He quickly walked through the kitchen and into the cafe. Both the waiter and waitress were out with the customers. Jonathan's gaze flicked over to where Harley still sat alone, staring out the window.

"Mr. Wayne." Jonathan greeted cordially as he approached the counter.

Wayne gave him his traditional playboy smile and greeted him in return. "Jonathan. Having a good morning?"

_Not at all._ "Yes. What will you have today?"

"Hmm... what do you suggest for...?"

Jonathan did not hear anything more Wayne said. The door opened slowly, letting in a man heralded with a blast of cold air. A heavily-wrapped man looked at him, clutching a scarf over his mouth, before making his way to Harley's table.

"Jonathan?"

He looked, eyes the tiniest bit larger than usual, back to the billionaire. "Hm?"

Bruce Wayne gave him a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

Jonathan watched as Wayne looked over to where Harley and her companion stared at him. Wayne quickly turned back to Jonathan.

"Of course." Jonathan ducked his head a moment before looking straight at Wayne. "I'll get... how many did you say you needed?"

"I didn't say."

"How many do you need?" Jonathan asked.  _What am I even getting for him?_

"That depends. How much do you eat?"

Jonathan blinked. "Pardon?"

"I find myself eating little. How much will you need?" Wayne smiled.

"What  _are_ you talking about?" Jonathan asked, irritated.

"I'm asking you to have lunch with me. But I want you to choose the meals." Wayne explained patiently.

"I'm working." Jonathan said shortly. "However, I would be happy to get something for you-"

"Jonathan!"

The man turned as the waitress called his name. "Yes?"

"The couple by the window want two coffees. Would you please fetch them for me?"

Jonathan eyed the duo by the windows. Harley gave him a grin. Her companion- Jonathan knew it was Joker- had yet to remove his scarf, but Jonathan was willing to bet the clown was smiling.

"I can't." Jonathan called out with fake regret. "Mr. Wayne had asked that I accompany him to lunch."

"Oh!" She said, suddenly very close and very understanding. "Well, you go right ahead, Jonny." She flashed a flirty smile at Wayne, who returned it twice-fold.

"Can we eat elsewhere?" Jonathan muttered as she moved away.

"You don't like your own cafe?" Wayne asked him, but Jonathan thought he saw something in those eyes that understood. "I know just the place."


	7. Chapter Six

"You like it, I hope?"

Jonathan looked around the small establishment. "It is in a decent area and I have not seen any members of the mob. However, I believe the gentleman in the northern corner suffers from-"

Bruce let out a small chuckle. "Not...quite what I was asking about."

"Mm." Jonathan looked the billionaire in the eyes. Then, suddenly, "Why me?"

Bruce lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip of water. It seemed to Jonathan that Bruce was staring, observing each aspect of the doctor's face. Or maybe he was simply imagining things. He opted for the latter.

"You interest me."

Jonathan swallowed thickly.  _Why should I interest billionaire Bruce Wayne? Is he one who never forgot Fear Night?_

"It's not because of that night." Bruce said softly, as if over hearing his thoughts.  _Well, maybe not entirely._

"No? Then what is it?"  _I've done nothing else that a socialite would remember._

"You are the one person in that cafe- and most of Gotham- who does not  _leap_ at the chance to please Bruce Wayne." Bruce leaned forward on the table, speaking quietly. "It is good to see something different."

Jonathan stared at him until their waiter approached. "Are you ready to order, sirs?"

"Jonathan?" Bruce questioned.

"Yes. I'll have..." He looked over the menu once more quickly. "The Mediterranean Veggie sandwich."

He heard Bruce speak but not the actual words. That was becoming an all-too common occurrence. He watched as the waiter walked away before turning his attention back to Bruce.

"Were they bothering you?" Bruce asked suddenly.

"Who?"  _Don't start this._

"The couple by the window. I saw you look to them before you agreed to lunch."  _Ask me for help._

"No. I was simply making sure they were going to be alright in my absence."

_You're lying to me._ Bruce smiled and nodded. "I see."

Jonathan raised his glass to his lips and drank slowly. He looked past Bruce, out into the restaurant. He watched as business partners shook hands, lovers whispered to each other. He blinked once and returned his attention to the man staring at him. This time it was most definitely staring.

"Yes?" Jonathan asked shortly.

"Why did you come with me if you're going to be miserable every time I try to speak to you?" Bruce questioned, only partly joking.

"You weren't talking. You were staring." Jonathan pointed out.

Bruce simply shrugged. "You interest me."

Cold slid down Jonathan's spine.  _I don't need anyone barging into my life._

Jonathan turned his head to the side, hoping the waiter would appear. When he did not, he looked back to Bruce.

"Find someone else, Mr. Wayne." Jonathan said coldly.

Bruce's chuckle irritated Jonathan to no end. "It's not that simple,  _Jonathan._ "

"I see nothing difficult about it." Jonathan snapped.

Jonathan's blue eyes narrowed as a cat-like smile crept across the other man's face. "What?" He demanded.

"I'm merely surprised that a man in your position would be so quick to push everyone away." Bruce lowered his voice as a hostess passed by, family of four following her heels.

"My  _position?"_ Jonathan hissed, just as quiet. Elbows rested on the table as they both leaned in.

"Everyone knows of your past actions,  _Doctor."_  Bruce murmured. "Have you ever considered what the future will be like?"

"I have a firm job-" Jonathan spat.

Bruce interrupted. "For how long? How long until your cafe has a new owner- one who may not be so sympathetic to criminals?"

"I've changed."  _Though I could happily gas you right now._

"Is that enough?"

Jonathan sat up stiffly as the waiter approached. "Here you are, sirs."

"Thank you." Jonathan did not break eye contact with the man across from him.

"Thanks." Bruce said quietly, million-watt smile in place. The waiter smiled in return and promised them a good meal as he backed away.

Jonathan looked to Bruce's plate and the pasta dish it contained. His gaze flicked up to see that Bruce still stared at him.

"What do you want?" Jonathan asked quietly.

"Absolutely nothing." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan's eyes were cold. "Then I cannot understand you insist on harassing me."

"I just want you to think about it." Bruce informed him. "And keep me in mind."

"In mind for what?"

"I was thinking as a friend."

Jonathan, if he were not so reserved, would have snorted. Instead he glared at his sandwich as he lifted and viciously took a bite.

"Keep it in mind, Jonathan."

"Don't call me that." Jonathan said after a moment of silence.

"It's on your name tag." Bruce pointed to the plastic still clipped to the man's shirt.

"That's for work only." Jonathan hissed.

Bruce raised one eyebrow but said nothing. They ate in silence, Bruce occasionally looking up at Jonathan. Jonathan, for his part, pointedly ignored his companion.

"If anything should happen," Bruce said suddenly. "You can work for me."

At that Jonathan looked at him, surprised by how serious the man sounded compared to his previously light, almost joking, tone. "I will do no such thing."

Bruce said, ignoring Jonathan's statement, "There are positions you could fill without anyone having to worry about your access to chemicals."

"I've changed." Jonathan said again.

Bruce eyed him. "So you say. What if there's something to change your mind?"

_Like Joker? He's tempting me._

"There isn't anything." Jonathan said firmly.

"Right now."

Jonathan ignored him.

_What if he's right? What if something goes wrong?_

Jonathan frowned.  _Nothing will go wrong. Everything's...well, not perfect, but... as close to as it can be for the moment._

Which, of course, meant it would go wrong.


	8. Chapter Seven

"Well? Jonathan, how was it?"

Jonathan looked over at the waitress. She eagerly leaned forward, hoping for every tiny detail. He blinked, thinking, before opening his mouth to speak.

"You're free to take my place should it ever occur again." Jonathan said honestly.

She stared at him with wide eyes. "You didn't  _like it?"_

Jonathan barely moved his shoulders in the thought of a shrug. "He doesn't interest me."

She was about to speak when the manager called her name. "Molly!"

"Coming!" She looked towards the kitchen before turning back to Jonathan to say. "You will tell me all about it later."

He said nothing. She waited a moment before sighing and hurrying to the kitchen. Jonathan turned to the counter, glancing up at the wall clock. Three hours and he would be free to go. Molly- he decided he would remember her name from now on- had asked to switch shifts, naming an extensive list of activities she had to do the next day. He did not mind switching. To him it was simple- instead of working an extra few hours today, he would do them tomorrow.

It was not as if he had much else to do.

Jonathan flashed a fake smile as the door opened. "Hello!"

A happy couple walked in, arm in arm. He waved them into a seat, grabbing a notepad and walking their way. He listened as they spoke to each other about the menu, gave advice when asked for it, smiled and nodded in all the right places, wrote down the order when they finally decided. Then he turned and frowned to himself as he walked back to counter, their voices still filling his ears. Laughter filled the cafe, subsiding into small helpless giggles almost instantly. He glanced down at the paper and walked into the kitchen.

"Cook, an order."

She looked over. "Lunch hour is over. I'm surprised anyone wants-"

"I know." He interrupted what was sure to be a lengthy one-sided conversation about people ordering meals at odd hours, about how at this time of day people wanted hot chocolate and bakery goods.

Cook nodded at him and took the paper. "It'll be done soon, dear."

He left the kitchen, but only after looking over at the manager's small office. The office was only a tiny room attached to the kitchen, tucked away in Cook's domain. He saw Molly through the window, but nothing else.

A customer stood at the counter when Jonathan walked back int the cafe. "So sorry about that. How may I help you?" He forced cheer into his voice.

"Two coffees." The man grunted. He mumbled afterward, but Jonathan missed it.

Jonathan was instantly irritated. "Regular size? Would you like anything-"

"Large. Don't you dare put anything in that cup with it."

As Jonathan poured the two cups, he asked. "For here or to go?"

"Do I look like I need two for myself?"

Jonathan glared at the coffee as he set it on the counter. "No. Four dollars and sixteen cents, please."

The man pulled out a beaten wallet and counted out four ones. He reached deep in his pocket to pull out a handful of coins. He found sixteen cents and slammed it on the counter.

"These just coffee?"

"Yes." Jonathan snapped. "Exactly what you asked for."

"If you slipped anything-"

"Why," Jonathan finally broke. "would I slip anything into your coffee?"

"Don't think I don't recognize your face." The man hissed. "I remember you."

Jonathan stared as the man continued. "Don't recognize me, do you,  _Doc?"_  He sneered the title. "I suppose I was just another lab rat. Oh, I meant to say patient. Did that slip?"

Jonathan kept the man's gaze until a member of the happy couple called out. "You mean that's him? That's...er..."

"Crane." The man supplied.

"Yeah, him! Oooh, I see it now..."

Jonathan blinked once, calming himself as he put the money in the cash register. "Did you need anything else?" He asked politely, biting back the anger he felt.

"Yeah, I do." He growled.

Before Jonathan could ask just what he needed, he found himself holding one hand up to a bloody nose. The man reared back, readying for another hit. Jonathan thought he saw a customer with her phone up, ready to snap a photo.

_Great._

Jonathan backed away, avoiding the next swing. The man stalked around the counter just as Cook appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, a plate in either hand.

"Enough!" She said loudly.

Cook pushed past the man and walked to the couple's table. "Here you are, hon. Enjoy."

Jonathan stood back against the wall as Cook stormed back. She pushed back past the man to stand between him and Jonathan. The man fumed, going to push her out of the way to make his way to Jonathan.

"No, dearie." She said kindly as she pushed him back. "No customers behind the counter."

Jonathan was forced to admit that he was impressed as Cook pushed the man all the way around the counter. Once there, she handed him his coffees.

"Now please go." Her smile was made of steel.

The ex-patient looked to Jonathan and snorted before turning and hurrying from the building.

"Love, you better be careful." Cook looked to Jonathan, smile falling from her face. She brushed brown bangs out of her eyes with one hand as she patted his shoulder with the other.

"Yeah...thanks." He murmured.

She leaned in to whisper. "I know you don't like help, hon, but sometimes it's necessary to ask someone for assistance." She looked at him seriously. "If you won't come to me, at least promise me you'll find someone."

"I cannot promise that." He told her honestly.

Cook sighed and stood straight. "I know, dear. I know."

He watched her walk back into her kitchen with increased respect. Molly walked out a moment later, eyes wide.

"I heard a commotion out here!" Molly began. "What-"

"Would you like me to tell you about lunch with Bruce Wayne?" He interrupted, deciding it was the better of the two evils. When Molly was set on something, she was set.

"Oh, yes!"

That was how Jonathan passed the next three hours. He and Molly waited upon the customers- Molly took care of the happy couple after that- and in between he told her all about his lunch with Bruce Wayne. He left out only the important pieces. Like how, occasionally, Bruce Wayne acted less like a playboy billionaire and more like...a certain vigilante.


	9. Chapter Eight

Jonathan walked out of the cafe quickly, unpinning his name tag and tucking it into his coat pocket. He pulled up the zipper, tucking his chin down into the old coat. He glanced up into the snowy sky, eyes narrowing. Snow landed gently on his shoulders and bare head- he shook it off and began to walk down the sidewalk. Cars zipped by occasionally, the rare citizen of Gotham walking past. He kept his head turned forward, looking ahead as he began the walk back to his apartment.

"Hey, there."

He barely turned his head to see the woman trying to drape herself on his arm. He shook her off, his pace growing faster. But she clung onto him, words a velvet layer coating his ears in sticky sweetness. But her words were rotten and decaying.

"Come on, honey." She purred.

Jonathan gripped her wrist with one hand and pushed it away from his shoulder. He said nothing, merely continued walking. He grimaced to himself as he felt her grip onto his shoulder once more.

"You think you're too good for me, baby?"

His eyes narrowed and he turned to face her. "Leave me alone." He said in disgust.

Jonathan watched as painted lips parted to speak, eyebrows delicately furrowed. She looked over his shoulder and let go. Eyebrows rose, green eyes widened, and stutters leaked from her lips. Jonathan immediately turned his head to see the spectacle.

He blinked once before he registered the woman fleeing into an alley. Jonathan stared at the man now standing in the street, purple coat snow-covered but still not buttoned up. Jonathan turned to fully face the man, hands in pockets.

"I won't help you." Jonathan said firmly.

Joker stepped up onto the sidewalk and laughed. Jonathan stepped back.

"Come on, pudding." A silken voice whispered behind him.

A slight turn of his head revealed Harley Quinn standing behind him. She smiled at him, a strangely genuine smile. He looked back to see Joker a few feet in front of him, hands mimicking Jonathan's own, deep in pockets.

"I'd hate for Harley to, uh, convince you." Joker did not seem to hate the prospect.

Jonathan looked to either side of him. The woman had long disappeared into the alley. No one else passed by.

"I'm not going to change my mind." Jonathan looked straight at Joker.

"Hm." Joker smiled. "They usually say that."

Jonathan took a single step to the side. Joker and Harley both mirrored it. "Move."

_I still have the formula in my apartment. I'll find it, I'll buy more chemicals, I'll make it..._

Joker cocked his head. "How was your, uh, lunch date? Bruce Wayne, wasn't it? Y'know, I always  _did_ wonder about you..."

Jonathan shook his head. "That was nothing."

Joker almost looked disappointed. "And I had  _great_ plans for him."

"So go ahead. Leave me alone." Jonathan pulled a hand out of one pocket to make a shooing motion.

"Maybe later." Harley butted in. "Mister J was only gonna do it for you."

"Touched." Jonathan muttered.

Harley circled to the front. She placed one hand on Joker's shoulder, grin curving her lips. Jonathan took a single quick glance behind himself before turning and running into the alley. He did not look back, only dashed down the darkening alley, ignoring the falling snow. He ducked down another alleyway, feet pounding against the ground.

"Scaredy-Crow!" He heard Harley call.

Jonathan glanced back to see a wave of purple and black and red. Joker's coat billowed behind him, both he and Harley dashing after the psychiatrist. Jonathan saw colors; Then he saw only white and the darkening blue of the sky.

He winced, trying to slowly sit up. He pressed his hands against the ground to push himself up. Both slid on the treacherous ice. He scrambled to stand, closing his eyes momentarily, ignoring the pounding pain in the back of his skull. He continued moving, his pace slower then before.

"Come back, Scaredy-Crow!"

Jonathan could hear her more clearly, knew she was closer. He fought to keep his eyes open and vision clear as he ran down the alleyway. He could now hear two pairs of footsteps behind him, louder with every stomp.

_I'm not walking outside again until I have Toxin._

He emerged onto another sidewalk, making a sharp right towards his apartment.

_No, I can't go there._

He did not stop running but wondered where he could possibly go if not home. It would do no good to bring Joker and Harley back into his home.

_Shit._

He glanced back and rushed himself. Harley reached out to grab onto his shoulder, fell short. His breath came in ragged gasps, one hand clutched at his stomach. Jonathan's mouth hung open, struggling to bring in more oxygen.

It was barely four-thirty, light just beginning to truly fade away into darkness. Jonathan once wondered why winter set in so harsh in Gotham, so many hours of the day sucked into blackness. It was Batman's time, in the dark.

That thought, strangely, crossed Jonathan's mind as he sprinted down the street.

Jonathan took a gulp of air before finally collapsing to the ground. Lips spread as far as they could, drawing in the cool air. His chest burned, his legs on fire. His cheek pressed against cold pavement. Blue eyes closed, concentrating on simply breathing. Cold began to slowly seep through his clothes and into his flesh.

"Gotcha now, Scaredy!"

Jonathan waited to feel hands or feet on him, but nothing came. Brilliant eyes, only slightly dulled, slowly opened. He heard white noise, Joker's and Harley's voices entwined, wrapped in with a somewhat familiar voice. Footsteps, two pairs of feet racing past him. One red foot rammed into his side. Jonathan gasped, eyes clenching shut.

He kept them closed.

"Hey."

Jonathan curled in on himself. He could still hear Joker, words meaningless and indistinguishable. Harley's voice was absent. But the voice next to him, soft and gentle, surprised him. It sounded so very familiar, but he could not quite place it. He could barely hear the new voice over Joker's, the words quiet so only Jonathan could hear them.

"It's okay, I have you. You're safe." That voice could have said anything and Jonathan would have believed it wholeheartedly.

Then he was in two strong arms, held against a hard chest. The voice grew gravelly as it addressed Joker. At least Jonathan figured it was addressing Joker- it grew in volume and sounded directed over his head.

Jonathan opened his eyes to see pure black. The slightly raised image of a bat caught his eye and caused his heart to sink.

_The Bat Man._


	10. Chapter Nine

The Bat Man.

Jonathan instinctively cringed, but the arms around him merely tightened.

"Hold on." The voice whispered.

He put aside all thoughts and questions and wrapped his arms around the Bat's neck. He felt as one hand pressed firmly against his back, the other releasing him entirely. One leg instinctively wrapped around the black waist for support, carefully avoiding the large cape.

Jonathan's eyes grew wide as he felt rather than saw the ground drop away from beneath him. He held on tightly, clutching onto his enemy. Batman's hand held onto him tightly, crushing them together. Jonathan looked at the buildings flying past them in wonder. Suddenly they were no longer moving.

"You need to crawl up onto the roof."

The psychiatrist glanced at Batman's emotionless face before looking to the building the Bat clung to. Jonathan took a breath and unwrapped his arms from Batman's neck. He reached up and grabbed onto the ledge, pulling himself up carefully. Batman pushed him up, disentangling himself from Jonathan's legs.

Jonathan collapsed onto the snow-covered roof. He stared up into the last rays of sunlight, watching the snow drift lazily towards him. A moment later, Batman stood beside him, reattaching the grappling gun to his belt. Jonathan watched in interest as Batman peered over the side of the building.

It would be easy. Then he could bother me no more.

Jonathan sat up. Just one little push.

I couldn't.

Batman turned his head slightly, looking along the street. Jonathan stood somewhat shakily, stepping towards Batman apprehensively.

"Joker's gone." Batman rasped.

"Harley?"

"Her too."

Jonathan nodded.

He took me away from Joker.

Batman turned to look at him. "Are you okay?" His voice was gravelly, but less so than usual.

"Yes." Jonathan nodded.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"You're not my bodyguard." Jonathan shrugged it off.

Batman looked at him silently. Jonathan stared right back, undisturbed.

"Your apartment is too dangerous." Batman said suddenly.

Jonathan shook his head. "It's fine."

"Do you really think Joker and Harley aren't on their way right now?"

Jonathan could not answer that one honestly without proving the Batman's point.

"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Batman growled. "I can take you anywhere in the city."

"No. Nowhere."

Batman was silent a moment. He stared at Jonathan instead of speaking. Jonathan waited for more words, but none came. They stood in the snow, silent. Batman took a single step forward, cape fluttering around his legs. Jonathan looked closely at the face he could see, piercing eyes and angled jaw.

"You look almost familiar." Jonathan said slowly, almost to himself.

"You've been seeing me often." Batman explained it away.

"Something more than that." Jonathan insisted.

Jonathan looked closely, fingers reaching for the cowl. Batman grabbed onto his wrist with a frown.

"Don't." he growled.

"Afraid I'll tell?" Jonathan smirked.

Batman shook his head. He lowered Jonathan's hand to his side before letting go.

"Have you thought of somewhere to go?"

"My apartment. You know where it is."

Batman sighed. Jonathan crossed his arms, both in stubbornness and to hide the shiver that racked his body. Batman noticed anyway.

"You're cold."

"It's snowing." Jonathan replied condescendingly.

Batman thought a moment. "You could return with me." He growled quietly.

Eyebrow raised. "To your, ah, Batcave?"

"Well..."

"I don't think so." Jonathan shook his head. "Just let me go home. I do have one."

"You went out for lunch today?"

Jonathan asked flatly. "Why is everyone so set on that?"

"With who?"

"Don't you know everything?" Jonathan forced a chuckle.

Batman simply glared.

"Bruce Wayne." Jonathan supplied after a moment of silence.

Batman nodded. "I'll take you there."

"No." Jonathan's voice held no room for argument.

But Batman did not care about that. "It shouldn't take too long to reach the Palisades."

"I'm not going." Jonathan hissed.

Batman ignored him. He stepped forward; Jonathan stepped backward. Jonathan had little chance to fight as Batman surged forward, taking the angry man into his arms. Batman held Jonathan to his chest delicately, as if afraid to break him. It was a far cry from every other time Batman transported him. Jonathan was forced to admit that.

Jonathan fumed silently as Batman carried him across the rooftop. "Hold on." He said for the second time that night.

"Just put me down." Jonathan said in an eerily calm voice.

Batman impatiently made a rash decision. He gripped Jonathan, pulling him away from the safety of his embrace. With both hands he held the psychiatrist out from the building, over the street below. Jonathan's blue eyes widened, throat forcing down a swallow.

"Is that what you want?" Batman said quietly, almost all traces of a rasp gone from his voice. "If I let you return to your apartment, I may as well be releasing you here. Joker will be there. He will not be happy with you. Even if he was only amused, let you go, Harley will make you pay."

Jonathan looked down. He swallowed once more. He looked at the Bat and nodded.

"Fine."


	11. Chapter Ten

Batman carried Jonathan across Gotham City's rooftop with ease. Jonathan marveled at the city lights as they made their way. Darkness fell as they crossed the rooftops, descending like a thick fog upon the city. With it the snow subsided, few flakes floating down.

Jonathan comfortably rested in Batman's arms.  _Comfortably._ As soon as he acknowledged the fact that it was comfortable he detested it. Batman was warm, keeping the cold air at bay. Jonathan bounced lightly as Batman walked, the latter unwilling to set Jonathan down for fear he would then insist again upon returning to his apartment.

"Almost there." Batman rasped. "I have to let go of you for a moment. Don't let go."

Jonathan hesitated before obediently wrapping himself around the Bat. His head was right next to Batman's- when the Bat turned to look at him, noses nearly met. Batman looked away and whispered again.

"Don't let go."

Jonathan opened his mouth to protest when Batman took a running leap off the building. Blue eyes closed a moment, limbs tight around the Bat. They were falling, dropping straight through the air.

But then they were gliding. Jonathan opened his eyes and blinked. He turned his head to the side to see the Palisades. Then he turned to look at Batman's face. The man's jaw was clenched, eyes full of intensity.

They landed with a minor start. Batman gripped Jonathan as he stumbled forward a step. He held onto Jonathan again as he walked along, cape billowing out behind him. Jonathan apprehensively looked at the mansion they approached.

Of course he remembered the newspapers proclaiming that the manor had been finished, remembered the photographs accompanying the articles. He thought it had looked large in the pictures- they did it no justice.

"I can walk now." Jonathan said sharply.

Batman glanced at him but continued walking. "I have no guarantee you won't just turn around."

"When I am this close? What would be the point?"

"Nice try." Batman whispered in his ear.

Jonathan shivered involuntarily. Batman hid a smile behind indifference.

When Batman knocked on the large door, Jonathan could have laughed. He never imagined Batman walking up to a door and knocking.

Someone very much not Bruce Wayne opened the door. "Ah, hello, sir. May I help you?" The man asked politely, seemingly unfazed.

Jonathan tried to read the old man's face, but damn was he good. His face was a mask of complete indifference.

"A guest for Mr. Wayne." Batman growled.

The man looked over Jonathan and nodded. "Of course. This way, sir."

Batman set Jonathan on his feet. "Behave, Crane."

Jonathan shot a half-hearted glare in his direction as he walked into the building. The old man closed and locked the door behind him.

"Mr. Wayne will be down in a few minutes, sir." the man said politely. "My name-"

"Is Alfred." Jonathan interrupted. "Everyone knows the name of Bruce Wayne's butler."

"I did not expect that someone such as yourself would know." Alfred did not sound angry or condescending.

Jonathan looked around the fancy entryway. "Indeed."

Alfred gestured for Jonathan to follow him. Jonathan took in everything around him as Alfred led him down a hallway, up a large staircase, and down another hallway.

Finally Jonathan found himself sitting in front of a roaring fire, coat draped over a chair. Alfred had stepped out of the room for a moment, and Jonathan was alone for the first time all day.

He leaned back in the comfortable chair. He did not want to acknowledge the fact that it was many times more comfortable than any furniture he himself possessed.

The fire crackled in front of him, dancing in small patterns. He sank into the chair and closed his eyes.

Bruce walked into the room to see Jonathan asleep. The fire looked freshly fed and a steaming cup of tea sat on the table near Jonathan, ready in the case of his awakening. Bruce smiled to himself and sat in a chair near Jonathan.

"Hey."

Jonathan immediately opened his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. The word was one he had already heard that night, with the background of Joker and Harley. It sounded so very similar, but the tone was slightly different. He wanted to hear it again for comparison.

"Mr. Wayne."

"Call me Bruce."

Jonathan sat up straight in the chair. He noticed the tea but did not take it. He instead stared at the man sitting nearby. Bruce smiled and leaned back comfortably.

"Alfred told me you were brought here?" Bruce said it as a question.

"Yes." Was all Jonathon said in reply.

Bruce nodded, still with that damn smile. "How long will you be staying?"

"Until I can leave without him following me." Jonathan muttered.

"He?"

"The Bat Man." Jonathan hissed.

Bruce's smile grew. "You think he is following you?"

Jonathan hated that smile. "Yes."

Bruce said only. "Hmm."

Thy fell into a silence only interrupted by the fire. Jonathan stared at the flames, ignoring the man staring at him. He saw out of the corner of his eye as Bruce stood, staying still only a moment before approaching Jonathan's seat. Jonathan only looked up once Bruce stood right next to him.

"I was hoping you would visit." Bruce said softly.

Jonathan scoffed. "I'm sure you love visits from Arkham patients." He snarled the word "patient."

Bruce shook his head. "Just one."

Jonathan shrugged. "I'm leaving as soon as I can."

"And if I don't let you? Maybe you were left here for a reason."

Jonathan treated him to a withering glare. Bruce appeared immune.

"Alfred has set up a room for you. It is near mine, should you need anything."

"I won't need anything."

Bruce continued as if Jonathan had said nothing. "There is a bathroom connected to it. Feel free to use it. I'll find something of mine for you to wear."

"Don't bother. I won't wear it."

Again Bruce ignored his words.

"Well, I suppose I'll show you to your room."

Jonathan let out a long breath through his nose as he stood. He followed the other man out of the room and back into the long hallway. Bruce led him up another stairway, this one leading to a smaller hallway. They walked along in silence until Bruce stopped beside a closed door.

"This one is yours." Bruce pushed the door open and ushered Jonathan in.

Jonathan appreciated the simplicity of the room. He walked in, looking at the red walls and wooden dressers. He turned back to Bruce, approval in his eyes.

If he was going to be forced to stay somewhere, this was not too bad of a place.


	12. Chapter Eleven

"Alfred will have breakfast ready in the morning." Bruce continued.

Jonathan inspected the bed. He sat down experimentally, happy to feel the softness underneath him. As soon as Bruce was finished speaking, Jonathan knew, he was cleaning up and crawling into this bed. Perhaps he would never leave it.

"Do you need anything?" Bruce asked as he headed for the door. He stopped in the doorway, looking back to Jonathan.

"No." Jonathan said honestly.

"Let me know if you do." Bruce said.

Jonathan nodded and watched as Bruce closed the door. He immediately lay back, staring at the ceiling. He took a deep breath before standing and walking to the bathroom.

_He seems calm._

Jonathan mused about Bruce Wayne as he looked over the bathroom. The softest, fluffiest towels he had ever seen hung on shiny rods on the wall. An assortment of soaps and lotions lined the bath. He found a new toothbrush sitting on the sink next to a fresh tube of paste. He looked into the mirror and frowned.

Dirt covered his face for the second time that week. Both because of Joker, damn him.

He stripped and switched on the shower. He slipped his glasses off of his face, the glass useless, covered in steam, and set them carefully on the sink. He stepped in when the room began to fill with steam. A content sigh escaped his lips and he stood still under the spray, face tilted upwards.

He stayed like that for what seemed like forever. The water retained its heat, but that should not have come as a surprise. He was in  _Bruce Wayne's_ home.

_For having an ex-patient show up at his home he is surprisingly unsurprised._

Jonathan picked up a shampoo and poured some into his hand. He lathered it into his hair slowly.

_As if he expected it! I know he demanded I think of him as a friend, but did he really anticipate me actually showing up?_

_Or the Bat Man spoke to him._

Jonathan rinsed his hair, eyes closed. He hoped that Batman and Bruce Wayne were not teaming together. He had enough trouble when they were separate.

Soap lathered on a flannel and he slowly began to scrub himself clean.

Jonathan stopped moving as he heard movement. He continued slowly cleaning, listening closely. He barely heard it over the sound of water, but he distinctly heard footsteps. He rinsed swiftly and switched off the water regretfully. Unlimited warm water with no cost to him was something he had to take advantage of before he left.

He shook water from his hair and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stepped from the shower and wiped his glasses off on his dirty shirt. He slipped them on before stepping into the bedroom.

"I brought your clothes."

Batman set the box on the floor and looked to Jonathan. "Joker was at your apartment. You may want new sheets."

Jonathan grimaced. "Thanks."  _As if I can afford to buy new bedding at a moment like this._

Batman nodded and looked Jonathan over. Jonathan stood completely still, slightly unnerved.

"Can you go now?" Jonathan asked finally, irritated.

Batman headed to the window. "He does truly want to help you." He rasped.

"Bruce Wayne?" Jonathan scoffed "He-"

"Enjoys your company."

Jonathan shook his head. "He hands me money and I hand him his order. That's no basis for anything."

"Just keep it in mind." With that, he was gone.

The psychiatrist sighed quietly and returned to the bathroom to dry himself. He walked back into the bedroom and opened the box Batman set on the floor. He pulled out boxers and slipped them on. The towel he draped over a chair before he stood in the center of the room.

He could just fall into the bed and forget about everything. He could sink into the mattress and let everything slip away, all just a bad dream. Then he could wake up and go to work-

_Work._

A panic-filled thought hit him.  _How am I supposed to go to work? It's practically across the city!_

He immediately reached for a shirt, randomly pulling one out and slipping it over his head before he made his way to the door. He pulled it open and stepped into the hallway. He looked at the doors lining the hall before seeing an open door. This he approached slowly.

He peered in to see Bruce laying back on his bed, arms up beneath his head. Jonathan stepped into the doorway and stopped.

The man's eyes were closed, lips parted. Bruce Wayne looked incredibly peaceful. No smile twisted his lips, no fake emotion lit his face. A loose shirt engulfed the strong-looking frame, pants slung almost carelessly over his hips.

"Mr. Wayne." Jonathan said quietly.

Eyes flew open and Bruce sat up. "Yes?"

"How am I reaching work tomorrow?"

Bruce thought a moment. "I can give you a ride. I have to go into work tomorrow anyway. I would undoubtedly stop at your cafe regardless."

"Why?"

Bruce blinked. "Hm?"

"Why that cafe?" Jonathan crossed his arms. "We don't exactly receive all of Gotham's socialites, so I am wondering what keeps you coming back."

"Besides the surprisingly good breakfast items?" Bruce teased, but the smile quickly fell from his face.

"You do." Bruce said in all seriousness, looking directly at Jonathan.

Jonathan had no words to say to that. He stood, arms crossed, in the doorway, unmoving. When he said nothing, Bruce spoke again.

"You fascinate me. Seeing you at, say, a social event is out of the question, so I must visit you at your little cafe." Bruce lay back on his bed.

"You ought to stop." Jonathan said then.

"Why?"

"Because you do not interest me." Jonathan turned to leave.

"That's a pity, Jonathan." Bruce caressed the name.

Jonathan hesitated a split second. He looked back to Bruce, unnerved. Bruce gave him a genuine smile before Jonathan hurriedly returned to what he now thought of as his own room.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Jonathan awoke to the smells of breakfast. He rolled over, sinking impossibly far into the soft bed. He kept blue eyes closed- to open them would be to register his surroundings. For now he could very well be anywhere, somewhere far from Batman and Joker and Harley and Bruce Wayne.

"Are you awake, Jonathan?"

Damn that Bruce Wayne.

Jonathan sat up slowly, blue eyes opening narrowly. He reached for the side table to grab a hold of his glasses. He slipped them on quickly to see Bruce standing by the bed, tray in hand, grin on face.

"Alfred offered to bring it up, but I thought I would pay my guest a visit." Bruce smiled.

Jonathan looked over the neatly made breakfast. Syrup ran over the sides of pancakes but never met the carefully arranged strawberries. Had the glass been filled with any more apple juice it would have spilled onto the silver tray. He had to appreciate the time obviously put into the arrangement.

The psychiatrist scooted away as Bruce sat on the bed. The latter placed the tray carefully on Jonathan's legs, looking down, watching his smooth movements. Bruce bowed his head, adjusting the covers so that they did not tuck up beneath the tray but instead remained smooth over Jonathan.

Jonathan watched as Bruce carefully tended to him, staring at the dark hair bent over his lap. Then Bruce was sitting up, was flashing a true smile at Jonathan. Jonathan immediately looked to the meal in his lap.

"Thank you." He said stiffly.

Bruce shook his head. "You don't have to thank me."

Jonathan took knife and fork in hand and began to eat. He ignored the man sitting on the bed beside him entirely.

Bruce watched Jonathan eat with interest. It fascinated him, the way Jonathan's fingers barely touched the silverware, fingertips delicately pressing against metal.

"What time is it?" Jonathan asked then.

"Six thirty." Bruce informed him.

"And it will take how long to reach my work?"

Bruce mused for a moment. "Are you going by rooftop or street? Batman could probably get you there in-"

"By street, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce." He corrected.

Jonathan bit back any comments he wanted to make. Bruce chuckled and said. "It will take half an hour. When do you need to be there?"

"Eight thirty."

Bruce nodded. "You'll be there."

Jonathan muttered a "Thanks." before continuing to eat.

Bruce hid a yawn behind his hand. Jonathan threw a small glance up at the billionaire. Bruce simply gave him a slightly tired smile, gesturing for Jonathan to continue his meal. Jonathan stared down at the plate, carefully keeping the foods as separate as they had been when handed to him.

"Do you like the cafe?"

Jonathan looked up at the sudden question. "I cannot see what business that is of yours."

Bruce shrugged. "I was curious."

"Not everyone caters to Bruce Wayne's curiosity." Jonathan said into his meal.

Crane wished Bruce was not still grinning. "And that is what makes you so interesting. You sit in my bed and eat my food but refuse to answer the simplest of questions."

"I did not want to come." Jonathan hissed. "Had I any choice in the matter-"

"Why did you come?"

Jonathan hated the sincere curiosity in Bruce's eyes. He appeared to have no ulterior motive- he was honestly interested. He sat still as Bruce looked over his face, searching for his own answers.

"Why do you think?" Jonathan replied with.

"Well, I suppose your home is unavailable. You weren't behind the rent, were you? You're at the cafe often enough, I would think you would fine. Is the pay horrible?"

Jonathan took a single deep breath before saying. "Yes, it is... unavailable to me right now. No, I am not behind the rent."

"Then why-"

"Mr. Wayne." Jonathan broke in. "I assure you it has nothing to do with my current financial state."

"Is it because of Fear Night?"

Jonathan thought about that one. He took another carefully carved bite of pancake and mused.

_Because of Fear Night?_

"Indirectly."

Bruce simply nodded. "You certainly did catch some attention."

"Yeah." Jonathan muttered to himself.

Despite that, he did not regret it at all. It was absolutely  _glorious_ , seeing his work on display for everyone to see.

It was as if Bruce read his thoughts. "Were you proud?"

"Of my work? Yes." Jonathan said honestly, tiny curve lifting his lips.

"Of the pain and horror you caused."

Jonathan's gaze snapped to Bruce. "It was more than that."

"Enlighten me." Bruce said quietly, firmly.

Jonathan's gaze met Bruce's. They stared at each other squarely, Bruce waiting and Jonathan thinking, running the conversation over again and again in his head.

"Science, Mr. Wayne. The pursuit of knowledge. Whatever you wish to call it."

"Selfishness." Bruce said harshly.

"And I am sure Bruce Wayne has  _never_ done something for himself." Jonathan said, venom lacing the edges of his voice. He hid the anger well, but it slipped through minutely.

Bruce sat silently. He stared at the handsome doctor's face, saying not a word. Jonathan returned to his breakfast, viciously tearing apart the remaining pancake with knife and fork.

"You know so little."

Jonathan nearly missed the words. They went by quickly, soft and weak-sounding. Jonathan wondered if he had truly heard them. They rolled around in his head, repeating themselves over and over.

"You're right." Jonathan told him. "But you know even littler about me."

Bruce's face looked pained but quickly became a mask. Jonathan managed to read a sort of "I know more than you think" edged in the lines of Bruce's face. The psychiatrist hoped, for once, that he was reading wrong. Billionaire Bruce Wayne surely knew nothing of Doctor Jonathan Crane.

"We leave at eight o'clock. Meet me at the front door." Bruce stood and exited the room.

Jonathan glanced up to watch him go. He looked to the window across the room, but could see nothing in the darkness.

Darkness, the time of bats.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Jonathan carefully pinned his name tag to his white button-up shirt as he walked into the foyer. He looked up to see Alfred standing near the front door, Jonathan's coat draped neatly over his arm. As the psychiatrist approached, Alfred held out the black fabric.

"Thank you." Jonathan said politely as he took it from the butler.

Alfred nodded. "Master Wayne will be here shortly."

Jonathan checked his watch- two minutes until eight o'clock.

He watched as Alfred silently made his way from the room. Jonathan slipped on his shoes, wincing. They wore out a month ago, but he could not justify purchasing another pair when the outside still looked rather immaculate. He slid into his coat, buttoning up the front slowly.

"You look ready."

Jonathan looked up at the sound of Bruce Wayne's voice. "I am."

Bruce smiled and yawned. He pulled on black shoes and fixed the coat he wore. He felt in the pocket a moment before nodding towards the door. Jonathan stepped aside as Bruce swung the door open wide, a burst of cold air meeting their faces. Jonathan resisted a shiver as he followed Bruce out into the cold.

Jonathan frowned at the fresh layer of ice and snow on the ground. He followed Bruce into the large garage, wondering briefly why the two were not connected. Bruce fiddled in his pocket; A moment later, the door opened and Jonathan walked into the somewhat warmer garage.

Bruce unlocked the Lamborghini and opened the passenger door. "In you go."

Jonathan glanced at Bruce but wordlessly slid into the car. He settled against the seat. Bruce shut the door; Jonathan watched him through the windshield . Bruce circled the car to the driver's side where he opened the door and sat.

Jonathan looked straight forward when Bruce glanced over at him. The psychiatrist ignored the driver, the latter shrugging and slipping the key into the ignition. The car started immediately. Warm air cascaded over Jonathan's feet.

"When are you done working?" Bruce asked conversationally as he pulled away from the manor.

"Two o'clock." Jonathan looked out his window.

"I may not be able to make it, so Alfred may be picking you up."

Jonathan said otherwise. "I'm going home."

"Is that wise?"

Jonathan looked over to Bruce. "And why shouldn't it be?"

Bruce glanced away from the street to look over Jonathan's face. "You were at my home for a reason, Jonathan."  _Won't you open up to me at all?_

"A ludicrous reason." Jonathan brushed it off.

"I would rather-"

"I am going back to my apartment." Jonathan said firmly.

Bruce was silent only a heartbeat before he said. "We'll see."

Jonathan opened his mouth to argue the point when he fully registered Bruce's response. He looked over, but Bruce remained staring out the windshield, concentrating on the road in front of him. Jonathan watched emotions play across the billionaire's face- concentration, worry, contentment.

Jonathan Crane wanted to know what made those emotions run around like that.

Exactly twenty-three minutes and fifty-two seconds of dead silence later, Bruce pulled up in front of the cafe. He switched the car off and pocketed the keys. Jonathan opened his own door as Bruce did the same.

"Thank you." Jonathan said quietly as Bruce circled around the car.

Bruce shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, remember?"

Jonathan walked into the cafe first. He could feel Bruce following him but decided to ignore him. Jonathan pushed open the door and stepped in to see Molly, wide-eyed, behind the counter. Jonathan passed her to check in, noting that Bruce stopped to order at the counter.

The manager's wife smiled broadly at him as he stepped into the office. "Good morning, Jonathan. You're early."

Jonathan leaned down to sign the paper on her desk. "I know."

"See you at two."

He only nodded as he left the office.

Bruce and Molly were chatting when Jonathan stepped into the room. As soon as he did, Molly stood straight, away from Bruce. He stood, hands in pockets, box of pastries on the counter in front of him.

"Goodbye, Mr. Wayne." Jonathan said solidly.

"Alfred will here at two o'clock." Bruce smiled his playboy smile as he lifted the box and headed for the door with a small wave to Molly.

Jonathan watched him leave.  _I don't think so._

Molly looked at him with large eyes. "Are you staying with him, Jonny?"

Jonathan sighed and walked past her to enter the kitchen. "I'll be back."

Cook gave him a tired smile as he walked in. "Hey, hon."

Jonathan immediately noticed her odd stance. "Are you alright?"

Cook's smile slipped but she quickly replaced it. "Of course, dearie."

"Come outside with me." Jonathan took her arm and led her to the back door.

"I really shouldn't..."

"Just one moment." He promised in his most soothing voice.

Jonathan closed the door behind Cook and turned to her. She leaned against the brick wall, taking a deep breath of icy air. She let it all out in a small puff.

"You're not safe here, Jon." Cook whispered.

Ice prickled down his spine. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember that strange couple?" Cook asked softly. "She came in alone, he came in later? When you went to lunch with Mr. Wayne."

"Yes." Jonathan looked at her strangely. "I didn't know you saw them."

"I see everything." Cook smiled at him, the first honest smile of the day. "They...well,  _visited_  me this morning, asking after you. I told them-"

"They visited here?" Jonathan asked.

Cook shook her head. "No, sweetie. My place."

Jonathan stared at her with some dread. He hated to admit it, but he  _liked_ Cook. If Joker and Harley were harassing her because of him...

"What did they want?" He asked quietly.

"Apparently they stopped by your apartment but you weren't there." Cook shook her head. "They wanted to know where else you would have gone. I don't know why they visited  _me..."_

Jonathan tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. "Did they say anything else?"

Cook teared up. "Oh, Jonny, what  _have_ you gotten yourself in to?"

"I don't know yet." he answered honestly.

Cook shook her head again and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Dearie, you're not safe here."

"It's not safe anywhere."  _Except maybe..._

_NO._

Cook looked at him and weakly smiled. "Came in with Bruce Wayne, huh? I bet he's charming."

Jonathan cracked a smile. "Not quite."

Cook muttered something like "Rich playboys..." but Jonathan was hard-pressed to make it out. He wrapped an arm around her back as she regained complete composure.

"Everyone here loves ya, Jonny." Cook said in complete honesty.

"I don't know about all the customers..." Jonathan joked softly.

"Fuck the customers." Cook gave him a firm look. "We're your family, sweets."

A soft smile lodged itself onto Jonathan's face. "Thanks."

"That said, it's our place to take care of you." She said in all serious. "If there's anything, anything at all, hon, you let us know."

Jonathan patted her back once before letting his arm fall. "You should stay out of it."

Cook opened her mouth when the door opened. The manager poked his head out and said firmly. "Izzie, we need you in your kitchen."

"Yessir." Cook nodded.

The manager disappeared and the door closed. She looked back to Jonathan with a steel glint in her eye.

"If you have somewhere to sleep outside your apartment, stick with it, dearie. I will not read in the morning paper that you're gone."

Jonathan gave her a small smile as she pulled open the door and disappeared. He leaned against the brick wall and stared up into the gray sky.

The door creaked back open. "Jonathan."

He looked over to see Molly's pink face. "Yes?"

"Are you coming back in?"

"Yeah."

He looked back up at the sky once before following Molly back through the kitchen. She gave him a worried smile before rushing off to a table. To his surprise, the room was mostly full. He almost felt bad for leaving Molly to it all. He grabbed a paper pad and pen and stalked into the room to start working.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

At exactly ten minutes till two, Jonathan asked Molly if he could borrow her scarf for the evening. She delightfully agreed and helped him cover up the bottom half of his face with the red fabric. Cook offered him the extra coat she kept in the back room and he wrapped himself in the patterned orange and green clothing. Cook and Molly both decided he was unrecognizable- especially when the manager produced a woolly pink hat and forced it onto his head.

Feeling only slightly humiliated, Jonathan stalked into the cold at precisely five till two. He hurried down the street, ducking into the first alleyway and following it to its end. From there it was a relatively short walk to his apartment building. He took it even faster than usual, paranoid that the ride Bruce promised him would creep up on him.

Fifteen minutes after two, Jonathan let himself into his apartment and gaped.

Everything he owned was packed into neat boxes. He knew he owned more than he could see and counted in the boxes of clothing at Wayne Manor. Even then he felt he had to be missing something.

_Batman must have taken more than just a box of clothing._

Jonathan walked into the bedroom to find the same thing. Even his bed had been stripped of sheets. A box sat open near the bare mattress- a glance told him it contained all of his notes.

_My Toxin notes._

_He saw them._

Jonathan felt enraged. Those were  _his._ He tore open the boxes and began unpacking. Sheets went back on the bed. These Jonathan looked at with distaste before tearing back off, Batman's words in his mind. Toiletries were carefully thrown back into the bathroom. Clothes- what remained of them, anyway- went back into his three drawers.

_He was going to move me._

Jonathan walked into his kitchen and threw open the first cabinet he reached. A part of him was inherently grateful that his food still remained in place.

The rest of him remained pissed.

He pulled out a box of pasta and looked it over. He remembered the time, however- two-thirty. If he wanted to save up enough money to make his toxin again...

He put the box back. He could wait a few more hours to eat. The breakfast Wayne gave him had been more than filling.

_He'll undoubtedly know by now that I left._

Jonathan closed the kitchen cupboard and walked back into the living room. He instinctively glanced at the bucket in the corner- almost full. He sighed as he walked towards it. Taking it in one hand, he made his way tot he bathroom. He poured the dirty water in the toilet, watching the crud swirl down the drain. He returned the significantly lighter bucket to its position.

He retreated into his bedroom. He sat on his bed and began pulling out his notes. He lay the notebooks carefully on the bed, almost reverently.

Jonathan Crane was going to make Fear Toxin.

He smiled fondly at the notebooks, sitting back on his bed and opening the first one. More than anything else it felt like returning home, engrossing himself once more in the names and compounds he knew so intimately.

With a small smile, he began to read.

He awoke with a start. His room was dark. Jonathan looked over to his side table to see the clock read two thirty-three. He leaned back against the headboard with a small sigh. He had not meant to fall asleep.

He reached for the notebook in his lap to find it no longer sat there. Slightly panicked, he sat up and smoothed his hands across the dark bed. He could not see a thing, only hoped that his questing hands would run across it.

Jonathan knew he had set out multiple books, having read three while sitting there, but now he could not feel one. A smile lit his face as fingers met the cover of a book. Just as fingers began to wrap around the spine, it moved away. Jonathan immediately stilled.

"Hello?" Jonathan whispered.

"Why are you here?"

Jonathan fumed silently. "This is my apartment."

"I took you elsewhere."

"And I  _left."_

Jonathan blinked and covered his eyes with one hand as the light flicked on. He saw Batman standing next to the light switch, notebook in hand. Jonathan stood from the bed and approached the vigilante.

"That's mine." Jonathan reached for the book.

"You said you weren't making any more." Batman accused, holding the book out of Jonathan's reach.

Jonathan allowed himself a twisted smile. "You never indulge yourself by reading a good book?"

Batman side-stepped Jonathan's next try at his book neatly. "Perhaps I should not have left you with anyone other than myself."

Jonathan almost scoffed. "Keep me with you? I'd be little better than a prisoner."

"Why didn't you stay with the other man?" Batman rasped.

"Bruce Wayne? What made you think  _Bruce Wayne_ would shelter me?" Jonathan could have laughed.

"He kicked you out, did he?" Batman hissed.

Jonathan stopped a moment. "Not quite."

"Then why-"

"I will not be his prisoner." Jonathan reached for his notebook. "Now give me that."

"You were his guest."

"Is that what it is called these days? I was out of touch for too long." Jonathan cocked his head.

Jonathan sighed a tiny sigh and stood still. He crossed his arms and waited. Batman stood in front of him, equally as patient. Both waited for the other to speak first.

Jonathan's eyebrows raised then lowered. He turned away from Batman and went to sit on his bed. He never made it.

"Let go." He commanded as Batman wrapped strong arms around him.

Jonathan heard as his notebook hit the floor. "Be careful with that!"

"As if you don't have it memorized." Batman growled.

Jonathan winced as he made contact with the wall. Batman pressed him into the cold plaster, inches from the window.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't take you to Arkham." Batman hissed into Jonathan's ear.

Jonathan involuntarily shivered as hot breath cascaded over his ear. His mind he had control over- his body he did not. He had never saw the need for it- he was beginning to rethink that.

"They let me go." Jonathan smirked. " _Sane_ , they called me, I believe. No signs of  _Scarecrow."_

"Were they right?" Batman muttered, still against the man.

Jonathan tried to shrug but could he could not in his position. "Ask yourself that, Bat."

"I am." Batman promised in a hiss.

Jonathan looked over Batman's face. What he could see of it, anyway. Lips twisted almost imperceptive in a frown, eyes narrow. Jonathan unconsciously straightened, trying to look much larger than a slender psychiatrist.

Jonathan took a breath. "I want to make more Toxin-"

Batman slammed him against the wall. "Crane." He growled.

Jonathan continued, relatively calmly, "I am going to be prepared for when Joker and Harley come after me again. I refuse to be a prisoner of either you or Wayne but acknowledge that I must be ready for the criminals to return."

"I can't let you."

"Yes you can." Jonathan said in full confidence.

"Why?" Batman hissed into Jonathan's hair.

Shivers ran down Jonathan's spine. Batman must have noticed by the way his stance changed, but Jonathan was not about to ask him.

"You of all Gotham's...citizens... should understand the need to fight men like Joker." Jonathan said quietly. "We simply go about it differently. Shall we see whose method is more effective?"

Batman frowned. He seemed to think a moment before saying quietly. "You no longer act terrified of me. Why is that, Crane?"

Jonathan looked straight at Batman, surprised by the change in topic. "I have someone else to worry about. Don't think so highly of yourself."

"Then you will have no problem if I take you with me."

"No way." Jonathan said resolutely.

"You have three options, Crane." Batman hissed into his ear. "Stay with me, return to Wayne Manor, or I drop you at Arkham right now."

"Why Wayne?" Jonathan questioned.

"I can easily watch you there." Batman said honestly.

"Strange." Jonathan commented.

_Maybe if I go I can learn more about the Bat._

"Fine." Jonathan decided. "Wayne Manor it is."


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Alfred seemed unsurprised to see Jonathan sitting on the bed he previously filled. The butler walked into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits, setting it carefully on the bedside table.

"Master Wayne is currently asleep." Alfred said to Jonathan. "However, I am sure he will be delighted to see you in the morning. He was incredibly distressed when I called to explain that you were no longer at the cafe."

"Distressed? I doubt that." Jonathan shook his head and took the tea gratefully.

Alfred looked at him seriously. "Sir, if I may speak..."

Jonathan shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Master Wayne does truly care about you." Alfred continued in his serious voice. "He may not know how to show it, but he does care. Ever since his parents.. .well." Alfred shuffled towards the door. "It is not my place."

"You're right."

Jonathan looked immediately to the doorway to see a sleepy-looking Bruce. Hair stuck in all directions and he wore only baggy sweats and a short-sleeved shirt. Bruce flashed Alfred a smile as he entered the room.

"Master Wayne, I did not mean to wake you." Alfred said respectfully.

"I was sleeping lightly, Alfred. You go ahead to bed." Bruce ushered the man out of the room.

Bruce shut the door before turning to Jonathan. "You didn't wait for Alfred."

Jonathan said firmly. "I told you I was returning home."

"Then why are you here?"

"Someone is persistent."

"Seems it."

Bruce stepped forward, frowning. Jonathan eyed him as Bruce sat on the mattress. This time, Jonathan did not move away.

"I was so worried about you." Bruce said softly.

At first, Jonathan did not think he heard the man properly.

"Why?" Jonathan murmured.

Bruce looked directly at him. "I wish I knew. When Alfred called..."

Jonathan glanced at the tea in his hands. He took a drink, avoiding having to reply. What could he possibly say to that? He lowered the cup and looked to Bruce.

"Will you be driving me into work again tomorrow?" Jonathan finally asked softly. "I start at nine."

"Yes." Bruce appeared to hesitate. "I can be the one to pick you up, as well."

Jonathan stared into his tea.  _I may learn more about the Bat here. If nothing else, I will certainly learn more about Bruce Wayne. What does a man like that fear?_

_No. I am leaving that behind me. The Toxin is going to be for Joker and Harley only._

"I'm done at six." Jonathan said softly. "I'll wait inside."

_I better learn something._

He looked up in time to see the grin growing on Bruce's face. "I'll be there."

"I'm sure." Jonathan muttered to himself.

Bruce yawned. Jonathan looked up at him in mild concern.

"You should be in bed."

"So should you."

Jonathan conceded that point. He finished his tea and set the cup aside on the table. He lifted the plate of biscuits and began making his way through them.

Two meals today, and both on the bed in Wayne Manor.

He noticed Bruce watching him eat but decided not to comment on it. If Bruce and the Bat were- what, friends? Co-workers?- well, whatever they shared, surely Jonathan could learn the best by letting Bruce Wayne think that Jonathan was letting him in.

"Do you want one?" Jonathan offered.

"No thanks. You eat them." Bruce shook his head.

Jonathan finished them in no time at all. "Do you need anything else?" Bruce asked concernedly.

Jonathan shook his head. Eyebrows raised as Bruce took the plate from his hand and reached across him to grab a hold of the tray. Jonathan could smell the surprisingly fresh scent of soap. Bruce stood, both in hand, and looked down at Jonathan. Bruce carefully set plate on tray, his now-free hand hanging empty by his side.

The psychiatrist stood from the mattress slowly on the opposite side of the bed and thought a moment. He squished any disgust he may have felt at his plan of action and instead walked around the bed. Bruce turned to face him.

Jonathan gave Bruce a small smile. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Bruce smiled softly. "I just want to know you're safe."

"I'll wait tomorrow." Jonathan promised.

Before the psychiatrist could convince himself to back out of his own plan, he pressed his lips to Bruce's own. Before Bruce could fully register what Jonathan was up to, the latter pulled away an inch and whispered. "Sorry" before turning and hurrying into the bathroom.

Jonathan closed the door as calmly as he could before quickly finding the toothbrush Bruce had set out for him the evening prior. On went the paste and he cleaned his mouth.

_This had better work._

Jonathan stared at himself in the mirror as he brushed. It had certainly seemed like the best idea- let Bruce think Jonathan was opening up and caving in. Then maybe Bruce would slip, would let Jonathan know the relationship between Bruce and Batman. After that it should be relatively simple to learn more about the Bat.

_Maybe such physical...sacrifices are not such a terrible price to pay._

Jonathan had never been one for the body-his field was the mind. It therefore meant little to him- as long as he retained his mind and furthered his research, what did a few physical sacrifices mean to him?


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Jonathan wrapped his coat tighter around himself. He stood next to the front door of Wayne Manor with some apprehension. The ornate clock hanging on the wall told him it was eight twenty. He looked down again, opening his coat slightly to check his name tag. Once done, he straightened.

The tell-tale footsteps coming down the staircase encourage Jonathan to stand that one inch taller.

"Good morning." Bruce greeted.

Jonathan nodded. "Good morning."

Bruce met Jonathan's gaze for only a second. "Shall we go?"

Jonathan followed the man into the cold. He had not seen Bruce since the evening prior. Alfred had turned up outside of Jonathan's room in the morning, inviting the psychiatrist to the dining room for breakfast. There, Jonathan had eaten alone.

"Six o'clock, right?" Bruce questioned as they situated in the car.

"Yes." Jonathan affirmed.

Bruce nodded to himself. They pulled out in silence.

"Bruce?"

Bruce seemed surprised that Jonathan initiated conversation- using his first name, no less. "Yeah?"

"Do you know the Batman?"

Jonathan waited a moment before looking over to the driver. Bruce glanced at Jonathan, odd look on his face.

"Why would I know him?" Bruce asked.

"I was simply curious."  _Why else would he be so insistent I stay with you of all people?_

Bruce let out a puff of air. "You didn't want to come back last night. Did he make you?"

"Yes." Jonathan hated the small admission.

"Is that why you want to know if I know him?" Bruce guessed correctly. Jonathan said nothing, but Bruce easily read his face. "Maybe he saw our lunch date and assumed that you would feel most comfortable with me."

_He was wrong._ He convinced himself.

"Maybe." Jonathan muttered.  _I wouldn't have anywhere else to go._

He shook away those thoughts.

Bruce looked forward even as Jonathan moved slightly closer in his seat to Bruce.

_What are you playing at, Jonathan?_ Bruce made a point of staring forward.

"I didn't want to come back." Jonathan was honest only for the first part of his statement. "But if I have to stay anywhere, I guess your home isn't too bad."  _It could be worse._ He admitted to himself.

Bruce did glance over at him then.  _He has to lying... He didn't come out and say he enjoyed it, though. He could be telling the truth._

Bruce grinned at him. "I'm glad."

Jonathan forced a smile before looking back to the street. He looked out his own window, away from the billionaire. Only then did he let his smile fall. He stared momentarily at his slight reflection in the glass, smoothing back dark hair instinctively. He had stopped using any products in it since being dismissed as Administrator of Arkham. Eating was relatively higher on his list of priorities.

Bruce swerved suddenly, sharply. Jonathan gripped onto the seat as Bruce swore. Jonathan looked up to see a small vehicle beside him, a mere foot from the one in which he rode.

"No way." Jonathan's heart dropped slightly.

Harley looked shocked. Her face quickly was wiped of everything but a huge smile. She gave Jonathan an exaggerated wave. She rolled down the window as if expecting Jonathan to do the same. Jonathan glanced over to see Bruce staring at her, hand going to roll down Jonathan's window himself.

"Don't." Jonathan said harshly. "Just...just drive."

_Why is she here? Does she know? How could she possibly know! It's almost impossible this is chance..._

Bruce looked worriedly at Jonathan. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Just...drive." Jonathan stared at Bruce.

Bruce looked back Jonathan to the car beside them. "Do you know her?"

"Drive." Jonathan demanded.

Bruce looked to Jonathan before accelerating. He swerved neatly around the other vehicle and continued along the street.

Jonathan leaned back in his seat, staring out the window.  _Maybe it was just chance. She looked so_ _surprised... she's incredibly bad at hiding her emotions..._

"Do you know her, Jonathan?"

Bruce's voice snapped Jonathan out of his thoughts. "...Yes."

"Did you two..." Bruce left off.

Jonathan rolled his head on the seat so that it faced Bruce. "Did we what, Bruce?" He asked quietly.

"Don't you want to make sure she's okay if you know-"

"No." Jonathan hissed. "If I were a lucky man she would be-"

"What, dead?" Bruce looked over.

Jonathan looked away. He stared out the windshield, ignoring Bruce.

_Yes._

"Jonathan." Bruce said quietly.

"What?" Jonathan sounded tired.

"What is between you two?"

"None of your-"

"Business, I know." Bruce cut him off.

Jonathan's eyes narrowed as Bruce pulled over. "We're not there yet."

"I know."

Bruce turned the key and the vehicle quieted. "Let's be quick, or else it'll be cold in here." Bruce murmured.

Jonathan muttered. "Why did you stop? I'll be late."

"We left early- you'll be fine." Bruce dismissed his concerns.

"What do you want?"

Bruce turned in his seat to face Jonathan. "What is troubling you? We nearly pancake someone you know but you won't stop and make sure she is okay. Batman brings you into my home at late hours-"

"Not my choice." Jonathan interjected. "You think I want to stay in your home?"

"No? You make it sound like you cannot stand me- so why," Bruce paused a moment, looking over Jonathan's empty face. "Why did you kiss me last night?"

_Yes, that was a fantastic plan._ Jonathan congratulated himself sarcastically.  _Act like I'm inviting him in when I refuse to tell him a thing._

"How else do you thank Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy?" Jonathan muttered, hoping he instilled enough dejection into his voice for it to be plausible. He refused to acknowledge the fact that some of the dejection was not faked.

Bruce looked almost sad. "Jonathan..."

"She is no friend of mine." Jonathan decided to put out everything at once. "If anything she is rather the opposite. Surely you know people you dislike."

Jonathan took a deep breath and spoke again. "She...is part of the reason I was taken to your house. I suppose he figured she would not find me with you."

Bruce sat still for a moment before turning forward and re-starting the car. "I see."

Jonathan slumped slightly in his seat. "Good."

"I won't let her get you."

Jonathan glanced over, slight smirk on his face. "That's a very Batman thing to say."

Bruce shrugged. "I suppose we agree on some points."

Jonathan watched as the buildings passed by. Bruce appeared to be making up for lost time as he sped along the nearly-empty street. Cars passed in the opposite direction, sudden dashes of color in his vision. Jonathan closed his eyes, blocking out everything, listening to the purr of the vehicle.

"Jonathan..." Bruce began slowly.

"Yes?" Jonathan asked, mild irritation creeping into his voice. The last thing he wanted right now was more questions.

"Am I so bad?"

Jonathan nearly missed the quiet question. He looked to Bruce to see mild pain on the billionaire's face.

_It honestly bothers him._

"You..." Jonathan put together his words. "I don't know you. All I know of you is from newspapers and gossip in Arkham."

"Then I am going to ask something of you." Bruce glanced over to meet Jonathan's gaze.

"What is that?"

"Give me one chance." Bruce answered quietly. "Just one."

Jonathan looked to Bruce, but the billionaire was concentrating on pulling the Lamborghini up flush with the curb in front of the cafe.

"I'll be here at six o'clock." Bruce said as he switched off the car.

Jonathan watched Bruce exit the car as he did the same. Jonathan stood and waited for Bruce to circle around the car.

"One." Jonathan whispered into Bruce's ear. "You have one chance."

Bruce gave Jonathan the most sincere smile Jonathan had ever seen on the billionaire's face. "Thank you, Jonathan."

_I really hope I don't regret this._


	18. Chapter Seventeen

For once, Jonathan led an uneventful day. No customers decided he needed a nose job and took it upon themselves to do it. Harley Quinn and Joker stayed out of the small establishment, and Cook managed to keep the kitchen from lighting ablaze for another day.

He almost felt sad when the day ended and six o'clock rolled around. Molly had been unusually quiet all day, keeping conversation strictly professional. Jonathan had to admit that was a bit odd, but he was in no way complaining about it.

As Jonathan stood inside the front door, staring out the windows, he could not ignore the whispers of alarm passing through him at the thought of another night in Wayne Manor. He almost regretted ever thinking of letting Bruce Wayne think he was passing into Jonathan's shell, of perhaps even letting the man in a little.

_The Bat. It's all to learn about the Bat._

It was so much easier to calm himself, to remember the plan, when Bruce was not around. When the now-familiar Lamborghini rolled up in front of the broad windows, Jonathan felt his heart rate pick up.

"See you tomorrow, Jonathan!"

He turned to wave absently at the waitress. He missed as Cook peeked out of the kitchen, worry written in every line of her face.

Jonathan stepped outside, closing the door gently behind himself. Bruce stood beside the passenger door, opening it with a grin. Jonathan could not fully look him in the eye as he walked swiftly around the car, sliding in with grace. Bruce closed the door slowly before returning to the driver's side.

As Bruce slipped into his seat, Jonathan questioned him. "Don't you think this looks strange? Surely the tabloids will love the fact you escort the Scarecrow around."

Bruce shot a glance to Jonathan as he pulled away from the curb. "You're not Scarecrow anymore, Jonathan. Even I can see that."

"You're missing the point." Jonathan pressed on.

A deep sigh rose in Bruce. "I'm sure the papers will read whatever they want into it. Odds are they will take it as a...charitable act." He grimaced.

"Charitable?" Jonathan fumed quietly.

Bruce glanced over. "Think about it, Jonathan. Why would they think a billionaire playboy would house an ex-Arkham patient if not as a charitable act towards said patient?"

Jonathan glared out his window. "I don't need your charity."

"I'm not offering it." Bruce shot back. "You're my guest, as much as you may think otherwise."

Jonathan looked forward. "Why are you keeping me in your home?"

Bruce shrugged. "You keep turning up and I don't mind the company."

"I could disappear." It did not sound like a half-bad idea.

"I... enjoy having you turn up." Bruce gave him a slightly crooked smile.

"Invite over your model lady friends." Jonathan said derisively. "I'm sure they'd be more suitable company."

Bruce took a breath. "You believe I enjoy spending my time with them?"

"Yes." Jonathan immediately answered.

"Tell me, have you ever tried to have a real conversation with one?"

"No."

"It's impossible." Bruce said quietly. "Even if most of your side of the conversation is complaint, at least we can converse."

One eyebrow rose in a delicate curve. "Is the playboy less than happy with his life?"

"Only between you and me." Bruce winked.

Jonathan looked out his window, away from Bruce. "I meant it when I said you knew little." Bruce continued.

"So show me."

Bruce was certain he heard wrong. "Jonathan?"

"Show me." Some belligerence crept into Jonathan's voice. "Show me just what Bruce Wayne wishes he were doing."

A smile twisted Bruce's lips. "You want to know?"

"No. I want to see." Jonathan smirked.

"Alright."

Jonathan was surprised. "Really?"

"Yes." Bruce grinned over at him before looking back to the street. "But what if you don't like my idea of fun?"

"One chance." Jonathan reminded him.

"Mhm." Bruce mused.

Jonathan stared at Bruce unabashedly. Bruce did not look over again, staring forward as he maneuvered the streets of Gotham City.

"Are you doing anything tonight, Jonathan?" Bruce asked conversationally.

"I am sure you know the answer to that question." Jonathan replied.

Bruce shrugged. "I was trying to be polite."

"No, I am not doing anything tonight." Jonathan looked forward.

"Do you have any of the suits you wore as..." Bruce tactfully left off.

"As Administrator?" Jonathan questioned.

"Yes."

"Hm." Jonathan glanced over. "You did not strike me as the type to know who was in charge of an asylum."

Bruce shrugged again. "Wayne Enterprises has made many donations."

"I know." Jonathan bit out. "That does not mean anything."

Bruce sighed. "I know."

Jonathan was quiet a moment before saying. "I have them in my apartment."

Bruce winced. "Well..."

Jonathan looked him sharply. "What?"

"A certain  _somebody_ dropped more boxes off in your room."

"It's not yet completely dark." Jonathan said confusedly, looking out at the dim city.

"Perhaps he has quite a lot to do tonight." Bruce gave Jonathan a quick smile. "Maybe he wanted to get a head's up."

Jonathan thought about the implication of his every belonging sitting in Wayne Manor.

"I see." he sighed.

Bruce gave him a small smile. "So?"

"You haven't even told me what you want to do." Jonathan pointed out.

Bruce chuckled. "I know that."

Jonathan barely resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "Fine. I'll play your game."

"Excellent." Bruce grinned.

Jonathan regretted it already.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Jonathan fidgeted with his suit jacket. Only a liar would say he was not vain on a normal day- and tonight he had to put on a performance. He had asked Bruce thrice where they were going, what he had planned, but Bruce had simply smiled and shaken his head. He pulled his sleeves over his wrists unconsciously.

"Are you ready?"

Jonathan turned his head. He stood in front of the tall mirror in his bathroom, perfecting everything. As Bruce stepped in uninvited, Jonathan forced himself to remember the room technically did belong to the other man.

"Almost." Jonathan turned back to the mirror. He could see Bruce reflected in the mirror, arms crossed, lips twisted in a smile, leaning comfortable on the door frame.

Fingers nimbly brushed back stray hairs, fixing them in place. He glanced at Bruce again, noting his fascinated expression, before turning and facing him. By the time he faced Bruce, the look was gone.

"Now I'm ready." Jonathan stated.

Bruce held out a hand. "Shall we?"

Jonathan hesitated before taking it. Bruce's fingers wrapped around his hand as the billionaire turned. "Alright, then. Let's go." Bruce gripped the psychiatrist's hand tightly, smooth skin pressed against his own.

Bruce led Jonathan through the manor quickly, not letting go of his hand the entire time. Bruce pushed open the front door and stepped outside, waiting for Jonathan to do the same before closing the door. Jonathan looked at the pavement interestedly.

"Are you not driving tonight?" Jonathan questioned.

Alfred stood outside the Lamborghini, pulling open the back door with a polite smile. "I shall escort you both tonight, sir." Alfred explained.

Jonathan glanced at Bruce, slipping his hand from the man's grasp. "Alright."

Bruce smiled at him. "Don't worry about it."

"I am not  _worrying_." Jonathan said quietly as Bruce ushered him into his seat. Alfred closed the door as Bruce circled the car quickly. Bruce and Alfred slipped into their respective seats, Bruce, in Jonathan's opinion, unnecessarily close.

"Ready, Master Wayne?"

"Yes, Alfred."

Jonathan was unsure of exactly where to look. He ended up staring at his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bruce watching him. He heard rather than felt as the Lamborghini began to slowly move, Alfred seamlessly speeding up.

"Are you comfortable with this?" Bruce asked softly.

"What is it exactly we are doing?" Jonathan asked his own question in reply.

Bruce shrugged. "Nothing special for tonight. Just dinner."

Jonathan swallowed. "And  _that_ won't look strange?"

"Does it bother you?" Bruce looked directly at him.

"What you make of your image is no concern of mine." Jonathan stated frankly.

"That's not what I meant." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan looked over Bruce's emotionless face. "No." He said finally. "It does not bother me."

"Good." Bruce looked forward and sank into his seat.

Jonathan looked at Bruce for a long moment before looking out the window.

_This cannot be that bad._ Jonathan consoled himself.

He glanced over at Bruce, hoping to see some emotion on the man's face, but could see nothing. It was disconcerting, to say the very least. He quickly returned to staring out the window.

Evening was just setting in over Gotham City. The first hints of dusk crept into the sky, tinging clear blue with the beginnings of darkness. From his seat in the vehicle, Jonathan watched as passerby hurried down the streets, rushing indoors.

Night was no time to be out in Gotham.

"We are here, sirs." Alfred's voice shook him from his reverie.

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce smiled.

"Not a problem, Master Wayne." Alfred smiled back.

Bruce looked to Jonathan. "Ready?"

Jonathan pushed open his door. "Of course."

Bruce grinned and did the same. "Then let's go."

"Will you call, sir, when you are finished?" Alfred questioned.

"Yes." Bruce replied to him.

"Very well, Master Wayne. Do enjoy yourself."

Bruce gave a small wave as Alfred pulled away. He turned to Jonathan, who was staring at the building beside which they stood.

"Now this is the establishment I would imagine you in." Jonathan said stiffly.

"Rather than your cafe?" Bruce chuckled.

"Precisely."

Bruce's face held a small smile. "Is this the sort of place Doctor Crane inhabited?"

Jonathan smirked at him. "I was always too busy for such things as fancy dinners."

Bruce scoffed. "Too busy to eat well?"

Jonathan glared at him. "I ate just fine."

Jonathan felt almost uncomfortable as dark eyes moved dramatically up and down his form. "You don't look like it."

"You could be speaking about yourself." Jonathan retorted, light teasing in his tone as he eyed Bruce's waist.

Bruce chuckled. "You'll be surprised. Come on, let's head in."

Jonathan looked warily at the fancy building. Lights shone from inside the open glass doors. He could hear light music, see smiling faces as people walked around. Decorated tables blurred together in the seemingly endless room.

"Unless you'd rather..." Bruce left off.

"No." Jonathan looked to Bruce. "Let's go."

Jonathan led the way into the establishment. Bruce smirked and followed him in.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

"Mr. Wayne!" The host exclaimed with some surprise. "Welcome!"

"Thank you." Bruce reached out to pull Jonathan towards him, fingers wrapping delicately around the man's wrist. "Two, tonight."

"Of course." The host led them into the room.

Jonathan glanced around as they walked. He could live two- perhaps three- lifetimes on the amount of money it must have taken to build the place. He stood straighter, following Bruce closely. He ignored as conversations around them slowed and stuttered and stopped. Eyes stared at him, flicking between him and Bruce. Bruce appeared not to notice, walking tall after the host, fingers lightly wrapped around Jonathan's wrist.

"Here you are, sir." the host gestured politely to a table.

Bruce leaned in to the host's ear. "Perhaps we could have a more...private arrangement?"

"Of course, sir."

Jonathan kept his eyes riveted on Bruce's back as they continued walking. His skin felt on fire where Bruce's hand held him gently. The host led them to a small table out of the way, away from the majority of the crowd.

"This will be fine." Bruce gave the host a charming smile. "Thank you."

Bruce released Jonathan's wrist slowly before he pulled out one chair and stepped back, gesturing for Jonathan to sit. Jonathan hesitated before obeying the silent wish. Bruce pushed it in slowly before sitting across from Jonathan.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked softly.

"Yes." Jonathan noticed the closest groups craning to look at them.

"I think we may have made the paper." Bruce chuckled. "At this rate, reporters will be after us."

Jonathan swallowed. "Do you think so?"

Bruce eyed him. "Would you rather leave?"

"No."

Jonathan took the night as a challenge. He was not losing to Bruce Wayne or to any other citizen of Gotham.

Bruce placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Are you certain? If you're uncomfortable..."

"I'm fine." Jonathan bit. "Are you sure you aren't trying to back out?"

Bruce laughed. "I'm positive."

Jonathan murmured. "Good."

"What would you like to drink?" Bruce asked him then.

"Water."

"No champagne or-"Bruce offered.

"I don't drink." Jonathan interrupted sharply.

Bruce's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Why are you so surprised?" Jonathan inquired.

Bruce shrugged. "Somehow I see you sipping champagne."  _Maybe I can convince you later._

"No thank you." Jonathan's nose wrinkled in distaste.  _We don't all feel the need for alcohol._

Bruce chuckled to himself. "Alright then."

Jonathan scanned the menu sitting on the table. He fingered the ornate bordering mindlessly as he read.

"I hope you see something you'll enjoy."

Jonathan glanced up at Bruce. "I can always find something."

Jonathan eyed the menu critically. A frown twisted his lips at the prices- how could Bruce possibly justify paying so much for a meal?

_It's Bruce Wayne._

It was explanation enough, but Jonathan still felt distaste.  _He could put his money towards so many things, and he buys dinner?_

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked in concern.

"Of course."

"Are you-"

"I'm sure." Jonathan bit out.

"Have you decided on anything?"

Jonathan read it over again silently. Bruce sat patiently, watching the man take the menu in once more.

_I cannot even name half of this._

"If you'd rather..." Bruce left off.

"No." Jonathan shook his head. "You chose this restaurant."

Jonathan showed the menu to Bruce and pointed to the dish he thought sounded okay. Bruce smiled and nodded.

"I'll order." Bruce informed him.

That was fine with Jonathan. Bruce flagged down the waiter, giving him a charming smile as he requested their meals. Jonathan did try to listen, to learn how the fancy names rolled on the tongue. They came so easy from Bruce's mouth, but Jonathan could not even begin to reproduce them.

As the waiter walked away, Bruce smiled at Jonathan again.

"What?" Jonathan asked sharply.

"I'm surprised you agreed to this." Bruce admitted softly.

"Don't be sentimental." Jonathan shook his head.

"I'm not." Bruce murmured. "I'm just pleased."

"Why?" Jonathan demanded. "You say you're happy I'm staying with you- why? Why should Bruce Wayne care about...about the  _Scarecrow?"_

Bruce sat silent a moment before murmuring. "Do you think so little about yourself?"

"This has nothing to do with what I think of myself."

"It has  _everything_ to do with what you think about yourself." Bruce countered. "You keep on referring to yourself as  _just_  the Scarecrow. Haven't you realized by now you are so much more than that?"

Jonathan went to speak, but Bruce overrode him. "You wonder how I could care. My status does not change the basic nature of a person." Bruce's voice grew in volume. When the patrons nearby turned their heads to look and see, he lowered it again. "I care about you, Jonathan, because you gave me reason to. How many of Gotham's criminals do you see searching for an honest job so that they can leave crime behind?"

Bruce murmured. "I can see  _one._ Just  _one,_ Jonathan. And that's you. You found an honest life. On top of that-"

"Enough." Jonathan hissed.  _You can't lay me bare like this._

"No, it's not." Bruce dismissed Jonathan's interjection. "You're a fascinating person, Jonathan. Everyone in Gotham knows you're brilliant- most felt the effects of your... genius."  _Of your Toxin._ "You have the potential to do  _so much."_

Jonathan avoided Bruce's gaze. "That's why I care." Bruce finished quietly.

Jonathan slowly stood. He looked anywhere but Bruce, just needed to  _get out, get out._

"Jonathan?" Bruce questioned in concern.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said in his smooth psychiatrist's voice. "I find that I'm not all that hungry, I'll just be returning home. Terribly sorry to bother you."

Bruce stood quickly, catching Jonathan as the man took a step away.  _Home where, Jonathan?_  Strong fingers wrapped around Jonathan's forearm. "Jonathan, please wait." Bruce said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Jonathan shot back quickly. On some level, it was a lie. But to Jonathan it was the truth.

"Jonathan," Bruce whispered. "Please sit down."  _You don't even have anywhere to go._

Bruce maneuvered Jonathan back into his seat. The billionaire flashed a smile at the neighboring patrons before sitting.

"I'm sorry." Bruce whispered sincerely.

Jonathan shook his head.  _Don't you dare, Bruce Wayne._

"It's fine." Jonathan said tersely.

Both were relieved when their meals arrived.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Jonathan lay on his bed, hair still damp from his shower. He stared at the ceiling, memorizing again the intricacies of the design. Blue eyes closed, blocking out the sight but still able to see the entirety of the image. He opened them again, just to check, knowing already his memory of it was perfect.

It was a useful tactic in calming down.

The meal had consisted of mild, idle chatter about the dishes. Jonathan had allowed Bruce to sample the fish on his plate- in return Bruce had offered his own meal, but Jonathan had refused.

The ride home had, if possible, been even worse. They said nothing, both staring out their respective windows. Alfred had not said a word since his initial greeting.

Jonathan heard light footsteps and sat up. He watched as Bruce passed down the hallway in sweats and a light shirt. He fell back onto the bed, deciding that, at the moment, he did not particularly care what had Bruce up and about.

The time ticked by. Jonathan stared at the ceiling, thinking of little else. Only when a significant amount of time had passed without the return of his host did Jonathan begin to wonder. As long as he had been there, Bruce stayed mostly in his room. Oftentimes with a book in hand, but always nearby.

Jonathan sat up and slowly moved off the bed. He stood still, fixing his shirt and pants. He smoothed back his hair as he made his way to the door.

He walked down the hall to Bruce's room. The room was dark, but even in the darkness Jonathan could tell it was empty. He turned back around to pass his room again on his way downstairs.

He first checked in what he dubbed the fireplace room. He knew it made little sense- many rooms contained hearths, but it was in this room that Alfred had taken him to warm up his first night in the manor.

When the room was void of any billionaire playboys, Jonathan moved on.

He slowly made his way through the manor to the kitchen, checking each room along the way. Many he had not yet seen- he almost appreciated the small, private tour.

"Sir?"

Jonathan turned quickly as Alfred's voice shattered the silence. "Oh, hello."

"Is there anything you need, sir?" Alfred stepped forward.

"Is..." Jonathan hesitated. "Do you know where I can find Bruce?"

"Master Wayne is out at the moment."

Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"  _He_ _ **left**_ _?_

"I believe that, after the events of your dinner, he needed some time to himself."

"But why would he..." Jonathan thought aloud.

"Perhaps something is bothering Master Wayne." Alfred suggested.

"Perhaps." Jonathan murmured.

"While you are here, can I get you anything, sir?" Alfred offered.

"No thank you." Jonathan shook his head. "Although..." he thought a moment. "I'm sure you have a library?"

"Oh, yes, sir." Alfred smiled kindly at him. "Would you like me to show you where it is?"

"Yes." Jonathan nodded.

He followed Alfred back through the manor, up more stairs he could count. His heart pounded in his ears after the endless stairs; He wondered briefly how Alfred had made it so easily.

"Here you are, Master Crane." Alfred pushed open a large wooden door. He reached in and switched on the light.

"Oh...wow..." Jonathan breathed.

He stepped into the room, looking around in wonder at the endless shelves. A small staircase led to another, broken-off section. He looked up to see a balcony circling the room, countless more books neatly shelved along its walls.

"I do hope you enjoy, sir." Alfred smiled.

"I will." Jonathan murmured. "Thank you."

"I bid you a goodnight, sir." Alfred nodded his head once.

Just before Alfred disappeared from view, Jonathan called out. "Alfred! When do you think Bruce will be back?" He tried not to sound too needful.

Alfred stood still a moment before turning to face Jonathan. "That all depends on how long he needs to be alone, sir. I suggest you sleep. He will be here in the morning."

Jonathan nodded absently as he turned back to the books. Eyes roved over the dark shelves, memorizing the layout of the room.

He made his way into the masses of cases, head moving back and forth to try and catch everything. Foot slowly moved in front of foot.

_Wow._

Jonathan walked up the three steps into a separated section. A true smile overtook his entire face. Perhaps he was simply attracted to psychology, for surely he had not known where to find the books, but there they were.

He scanned the titles, smile growing. His eyes lit up as he found titles he had only ever found at University. Rare titles lined up beside each other, drawing him in. Jonathan reached out and plucked the first one from the shelves.

Then another, and another.

Soon his arms were full of books. He looked around once more before returning down three steps. He looked around the library with a promise to explore more fully later.

He switched off the light on his way out.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Jonathan blinked awake, wondering what had awoken him. He yawned and sat up, noting the darkness still filling the window. He heard as a book fell to the floor and his heart dropped. Instinct had him immediately reaching down to the floor to lift the book. He set it on the side table carefully before standing.

Dim light shone in his room. The hallway lights were off- Jonathan guessed that it was from Bruce's room that the light shone.

He slowly padded along the hallway to Bruce's room. He leaned against the door frame as Bruce hurriedly made his way around the room. Jonathan noted immediately the loose sweats- nothing else hid the man from sight.

"Bruce?"

A bare-chested Bruce whirled around, facing Jonathan with slightly wide eyes. "Jonathan! I thought you were asleep."

"Where were you?" Jonathan crossed his arms.

"Does it matter to you?" Bruce threw back.

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have guessed it." Bruce continued moving around the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a shirt.

Jonathan stood up straight. "You've been out all night."

"Yes I have." Bruce shrugged into the shirt. "Why are you up?"

"Checking on you." Jonathan said honestly.

"Why?"

Jonathan stepped into the room. "You disappeared after dinner. Why?"

Bruce shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Jonathan said insistently. "Why won't you tell me?"

Bruce snorted. "Jonathan, help me understand." He faced the psychiatrist. "I took you out to dinner. There I explained just  _why_ I appreciate your company.  _You tried to walk out."_

Jonathan scoffed. "I went nowhere."

"I stopped you." Bruce shot back. "As I was saying, you also fight being here. You ran back home- goodness knows what happened that made you return. You won't tell me exactly why you're here in the first place. After all that, why would I not be surprised when you care where I am?"

Jonathan shifted from one foot to the other. Bruce only stared at him blankly.

"Well?" Bruce demanded.

Jonathan muttered. "You're never gone all night. Something out of the ordinary makes me interested."

Bruce slowly nodded to himself. "And?"

"And what?" Jonathan said acidly.

"And what now?" Bruce asked him.

"You tell me where you were." Jonathan did not miss a beat.

"I drove around the city." Even to Bruce it sounded a poor excuse.

"At night?" Jonathan scoffed. "Bruce Wayne, driving around Gotham all night?"

Bruce mimicked Jonathan and crossed his arms. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes." Jonathan replied immediately. "I'm surprised you weren't shot at. What if you had been?"

"I would have been fine."

"Yes, I'm sure you're invincible." Jonathan said sarcastically.

"You were worried." Bruce said suddenly.

Jonathan let out a short laugh. "No, I wasn't."  _Only a little._

"So why are you making such a large deal out of it?" Bruce asked patiently.

Jonathan shook his head. "Think whatever you want, Bruce. I'm going to bed."  _I don't need this from you._

Jonathan uncrossed his arms and dropped them to his sides. He turned and headed out of the room. He swiftly made his way down the hallway.

"Wait."

He stopped but did not turn. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

Jonathan cocked his head and turned around. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry." Bruce repeated.

Jonathan was silent a moment before asking. "Why?"

"For harassing you." Bruce took a breath. "I shouldn't have."

"Goodnight, Bruce." Jonathan ended the conversation.

"What time tomorrow?"

"You mean today?"

Bruce winced. "Yeah."

"Nine o'clock again."

"Alright."

Jonathan did not wait to watch Bruce return to his room. Instead he went into his own and crawled into the bed. He draw up the covers to his face and tried, unsuccessfully, to return to sleep.


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

"Let's go." Bruce smiled gently as he closed the car door.

Jonathan appreciated the quiet ride to the cafe. Bruce played the radio softly, instrumental music filling the vehicle.

"When are you finished?" Bruce asked casually.

"Seven."

"Do you ever have a day off?" Bruce questioned him.

"No."Jonathan said shortly.

"Why not?" Bruce glanced over.

"I asked not to."

Bruce remained tactfully silent.

"We're here." He said softly.

Jonathan led the way up to the cafe. Bruce walked right behind him, hand practically on the small of Jonathan's back. The psychiatrist did not protest but felt himself stiffen away from the billionaire. Jonathan frowned as he looked at the door and the "closed" sign hanging on it. He experimentally tried the door. It pushed open.

Jonathan glanced confusedly at Bruce as he walked into the cafe. He looked around the room, eyes drawn to sudden movement. He looked to the counter in confusion.

"Cook?" Jonathan stepped forward.

She shook her head. "No, Jonathan. Turn around, d-dearie." She coughed.

Jonathan was immediately at her side. "Izzie, what's wrong?" He asked softly.

She clutched onto her side, head still swaying back and forth. "No, go, go."

"What happened?" Jonathan demanded.

Cook clutched his arm, leaning in to whisper to him. "They're waiting for you, hon. As soon as they realize you're in here... That's why I closed the shop. I called manager... said there was a problem in the kitchen..." A rattling chuckle escaped red lips. "I guess there is a problem in the kitchen... but he believed me and called Molly. I told him I would call you... sweetie, I'm so sorry... I couldn't do anything."

"They?" Jonathan asked sharply.

"You remember them." Cook whispered.

_Damn._

"Go, Jonathan." Cook stared at him, steel in her eyes. "Get out while you can. You can't come back here again, sweetie."

"Cook..." Jonathan murmured quietly.

Her fingers tightened on his arm. "I love ya, hon. I'm not letting anyone hurt you. Now go, already!"

She let him go with a small push. "Go." She repeated before coughing.

"Izzie, I-" Jonathan began.

"Go!" She pushed him with everything she had.

"C'mon." Bruce murmured in Jonathan's ear. "Best do as she says."

Bruce grabbed onto Jonathan's arm and pulled him from the building. He pulled Jonathan to the car, opening the passenger door quickly. Jonathan sat down, staring at Bruce's worried face through the windshield as the man made his way to the driver's seat.

Bruce pulled away from the curb quickly.

"Are you in trouble, Jonathan?" Bruce asked. It was not an unfamiliar question from him.

"You could say that." Jonathan muttered.

"Did you do something?"

"No." Jonathan said honestly. "They're... trying to have me do something."

"What?"

"I don't even know." Jonathan whispered.

Bruce nodded grimly and drove along the increasingly crowded streets.

"Where are we going?" Jonathan asked.

"To work."

Jonathan was momentarily confused. "Excuse me?"

"I have to go in to work, and it seems you are now out of a job. While we're here I can get you set up." Bruce explained. "I meant it when I offered a position. As long as you need to be away from the cafe you can stay at Wayne Enterprises." Bruce glanced to Jonathan. "Not as though you need the work right now anyway, without an apartment to take care of."

"And what is it that you plan on setting me up as?" Jonathan inquired.  _I need the money for toxin. Perhaps I will make enough here to start soon._

Bruce took a sharp turn, hands twisting the smooth wheel. "I'm thinking you can be my secretary."

"No." Jonathan said firmly.  _Will Joker and Harley find me here? I have to make it quickly._

"What would you prefer?" Bruce asked sardonically. "No one would be happy of I put you in contact with, say, chemical research or something similar."

"And you care what would make them happy?"

A grin crept across Bruce's face. "Well. We'll see what you can do."

Jonathan allowed himself a small smile.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

"Uh, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce smiled broadly. "Good morning, Mr. Fox. I hope I'm not late."

"No, of course not." Fox shook his head. "But may I ask why you broke into your own building? I barely managed to quiet the alarms before anyone heard."

Bruce shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. "Sometimes you just don't want to use the front door."

Bruce leaned back in his desk chair, fingers laced together in his lap. He watched as Fox went to speak, then listened as footsteps sounded in his personal bathroom. Fox looked over in interest, sending a questioning glance to Bruce. Bruce simply smiled.

"I do not understand why you need such extravagance everywhere you go." The door opened wide and Jonathan walked out. "Comfort, I understand, but- ah." He stopped, staring at Fox. "Hello."

Fox looked to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, may I ask why Dr. Crane is in your office?"

"I offered him a job." Bruce smiled.

Jonathan unconsciously moved behind Bruce's desk. "Who are you?"

"Lucius Fox." Fox held out one hand. "Head of Wayne Enterprises."

Jonathan took the man's hand in his own. "Head?" He looked to Bruce.

Bruce gave a small shrug. "Don't sound so surprised. Did you think I headed the company?"

"Yes." Jonathan replied immediately. "Surely you do something with all your time."

Fox chuckled and took back his hand. "Yes, well, sometimes even Mr. Wayne needs some help."

"Now  _that_ doesn't surprise me." Jonathan lowered his hand.

Fox smiled. "Why's that?"

Jonathan gestured towards Bruce. "I cannot expect too much from a pampered billionaire."

"Of course." Fox smiled a guarded smile.

Bruce interrupted the conversation before it could go any further. "He needs a position here, Fox."

"What did you have in mind?" Fox turned to him.

"I was thinking he could be my-" Bruce grinned.

"No." Jonathan said sharply.

"-secretary." Bruce finished anyway.

Fox eyed Bruce. "I take it you want him here for more than the fact he may have a good phone voice?"

"Do not." Jonathan immediately protested.

Both men looked at him. "Jonathan, you have a pleasant voice."

"A familiar one, though." Fox mused. "I doubt everyone's forgotten the sound of it."

Jonathan smiled triumphantly, but it slid as Bruce shrugged. "So he won't answer the phone."

"I could research." Jonathan input.

Fox looked him over before facing Bruce. "He could have my old job." he said slowly. "We never did replace me."

Jonathan asked suspiciously. "What is that?"

"Applied sciences." Bruce answered with a small nod to Fox. "That would work."

"And I would...?" Jonathan looked between the two.

"Archive and sort through aborted projects, for the most part." Fox looked suddenly to Bruce. "If I may have a word in private, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce's face suddenly held a look of understanding. He looked to Jonathan. "I'll be right back."

Jonathan asked. "Where are you going?"

"A meeting room. We'll be back in a moment." Bruce promised.

Jonathan stood still and watched them go.

Fox closed the door silently. "Is it safe to have him so close to everything?"

"What can I do, Fox?" Bruce asked helplessly.

"Why is he working here, Mr. Wayne?" Fox asked seriously.

"I need to keep an eye on him."

"Is he creating more-"

"No." Bruce interrupted. "It's really nothing he's done. It's Joker." Bruce's voice dropped, whispering to Fox. "He and Harley Quinn have been coming after Crane for something. Even he doesn't know what it is."

"Perhaps he should find out." Fox suggested.

"I think he's been concentrating on simply saying  _no."_

"He's changing, then?" Fox inquired.

"Yes." Bruce nodded fervently. "He's changed so much, Fox. We can trust him here."

"We'll need full access to Applied Sciences. Will he notice if something is missing?"

Bruce winced. "He's sharp."

"That may not be the best place for him."

Bruce said softly. "Is there any research we could trust him with?"

Fox's lips narrowed. He thought a moment before saying quietly. "Perhaps. If we stay away from chemicals and psychiatry, we should do fine." Fox thought a moment. "Are you certain he won't simply be, say, your personal assistant? He would be able to do just about anything without having a proper position."

Bruce grimaced. "I think he doesn't want a title that makes him directly below me."

"We'll change the title." Fox shrugged.

Bruce grinned. "What do you have in mind?"

Fox thought for a moment. "Just call him your personal overseer."

"That would work?"

"Perhaps."

"And he would do, what?" Bruce inquired.

"Go through anything you needed him to." Fox murmured. "Research when it needed done, go through papersif necessary."

"He might be okay with that." Bruce nodded. "It's worth a shot."  _I really hope he is._

Jonathan sat comfortably in Bruce's desk chair. He looked over the papers neatly stacked on the desk, fingering one interestedly. Blue eyes took in the words and numbers carefully.

"Mr. Wayne, I have a Miss Noble on the line for you."

Jonathan started in surprise. He looked to the phone and the attached box now speaking clear words.

_His secretary._ Jonathan knew it instantly.

"Mr. Wayne? Shall I put her through?"

Jonathan shrugged and returned to his papers. The voice continued asking for Mr. Wayne. Finally it stopped and left him in silence.

He heard footsteps approaching and looked up expectantly. He wanted to tell Bruce he found an error in the company's numbers- how had the billionaire missed it? They were right there in his hand- and so obviously off.

The door opened "Mr. Wayne?"

A short redhead walked into the room, painted lips in a large smile. "Mr. Wayne, are you-"

She stopped still when she saw Jonathan sitting at the desk. "You-you're... What are you doing here?"

Jonathan said pleasantly. "Mr. Wayne is out of the room right now."

"What have you done with him?" She stomped into the room none too delicately.

"Nothing." Jonathan said honestly.

"Lies. Where is he?" She demanded. "Why are you here? What did you do to him?"

Jonathan shook his head with a frown. "You're irritating me. Please go."

She huffed. "Where's security when you need it?"

She turned to leave the room, intent on calling up security.

"Jonathan?"

He smirked as Bruce and Fox hurried into view. "What's- oh, hello Miss Cooper."

"Are you okay?" She asked worriedly. "In your office there's-"

"Yeah, I'd rather-" Bruce began to murmur.

Fox interrupted him. "Miss Cooper, the man in there is nothing to worry about."

"But isn't it-"

"No." Fox lied smoothly. "It's not."

"I don't like him." Miss Cooper said firmly.

"Come with me, Miss Cooper." Fox gently directed her away from Bruce' office.

Jonathan watched it all smugly. Bruce stepped into the room and closed the door before turning to Jonathan.

"I don't like her." Jonathan said loudly.

"I offered you her job."

"Would she be gone?" Jonathan's smirk returned.

"Yes."

"I'll consider it."

Bruce gaped at him. When did Jonathan become so open and out-spoken?

"I was looking over your company's numbers, and they look odd." Jonathan continued as if nothing strange had occurred.

"Oh?"  _Of course they are._

"Yes. You said that the applied sciences were simply old projects- so why is so much money going into it?" Jonathan frowned. "It makes no sense."

"A new archival system." Bruce lied neatly. "It's been a mess down there but we're trying to clean it up."

"And that's what you want  _me_ to do?" Jonathan questioned.

"Well, Fox had a better idea." Bruce approached the desk. "You'll work up here with me. Go over papers, help with research."

"You research?"

"Occasionally."

Jonathan eyed Bruce. "You want me to work with you? So I cannot escape you all day?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You'll have your own room."

"Really?"

Bruce motioned with one hand towards he door opposite the bathroom door. "There's my personal room, but it's empty. It's yours."

Jonathan looked at him suspiciously. "Why did you decide against applied sciences?"

"You could always be my secretary."

Jonathan only glared.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

"Okay, there you are."

Jonathan eyed the brand-new desk. Bruce stepped back after he set a chair behind it. He looked at Jonathan to wait for the man's approval.

"It'll do." Jonathan said finally.

"Good." Bruce smiled.

"So, what is a 'personal room' supposed to be for, anyway?" Jonathan eyed Bruce.

Bruce shrugged. "I've never used it. Some of the others keep files and papers in theirs."

"Mm." Jonathan acknowledged the response.

"Is that everything you'll need?" Bruce asked.

"I can answer that better when I know what it is I'll be doing." Jonathan said simply.

Bruce shrugged. "I don't even know exactly yet."

Jonathan's withering glare was not lost on Bruce, but he chose to ignore it.

"I'll probably have a new project soon." Bruce said quickly. "I often don't have too much to work on, but we can find something."

Jonathan shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Really?"  _That seems the opposite of what you're displaying._

"What you choose to do with your time is none of my concern." Jonathan told him.

Bruce crossed his arms. "Can I ask you a question, Jonathan?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Why do you keep letting me in then pushing me out?"

Jonathan's attention was immediately entirely on Bruce. "What do you mean by that?"

"You start to open up but then you close even tighter than before." Bruce clarified. "Why?"

Jonathan looked away.  _Because I shouldn't open up to you. Even if it would help me figure out the Bat, I really shouldn't allow myself to let you any closer._

"Please tell me, Jonathan." Bruce whispered. "I have to understand."

"No you don't." Jonathan shot back.

"I want to."

"Too bad." Jonathan said petulantly.

Bruce sighed. His arms uncrossed and fell to his sides. Jonathan unconsciously raised his chin as Bruce approached him, arms moving to cross.

"Jonathan." Bruce murmured softly.

Brilliant blue stared at him intently. "Yes?"

A tiny twitch nearly curved up the corner of Bruce's mouth but the potential smile died quickly. He stepped forward, looking over Jonathan's face.

"Let me in." Bruce whispered pleadingly.

"Why should I?" Jonathan tried to bite back the words, failed.

Bruce took a breath. Jonathan wanted to move back a step, away from the man all-too close to him. He could not move, could only stare at the slightly-taller male.

"You promised me one chance."

"Don't throw that back in my face." Jonathan said sharply, almost tiredly.  _Not when I'm actually giving it to you._

Bruce frowned. "Jonathan, please."

Jonathan grimaced mildly as Bruce took his hands in his own. "Why won't you let anyone in?"

"You haven't exactly been open with me, Bruce." Jonathan tried to move the spotlight onto the billionaire.

"How so?"

"Do you expect me to believe you drove around all night?" Jonathan hissed. "I'm not stupid, Bruce, don't treat me like I am."

"What exactly do the 'couple' at the cafe want of you?" Bruce countered.

"I told you, I don't know."

"Of course you don't." Bruce said condescendingly, disbelievingly.

Jonathan glared at Bruce. He tore his hands from the man's grip and stepped back and away. "I'm being honest, Bruce." he spat. "For once I am  _entirely_ honest with you and you refuse to believe me!"

"For once?" Bruce picked out those two words.

Jonathan nodded. "Yes. You want to know why I won't open up- when I  _do_ you won't take it."

Bruce looked almost apologetic until Jonathan demanded again. "So? Where were you last night?"

_I was looking for Joker and Harley Quinn so that I can take them to Arkham and you'll be safe._

"...Fine." Bruce sighed. "Natasha's in the city. I ran to her for help."

"Natasha?" Jonathan asked sharply.

"She's a member of the Russian Ballet."

"And she opened her doors to you  _all night?"_

Bruce nodded. "Yes."

Jonathan looked disgusted. "I can't see you up talking to anyone all night."

Bruce immediately knew what Jonathan was implying. "I didn't sleep with her."

"That's one girl, at least."

Bruce asked quietly. "When did this become an attack on me?"

"The moment you attacked me." Jonathan growled.

Jonathan turned from Bruce and stalked from the room. "Where are you going?" Bruce called after him.

"I'll go to the cafe. Maybe Joker will still be there." Jonathan glanced to Bruce. "Dealing with him sounds like the better option right now."

Jonathan did not even know Bruce was running until the billionaire tackled him to the ground. "Get off me!" Jonathan insisted.

"No." Bruce hissed. "Not until we have a few things straight."

"Then start straightening." Jonathan challenged.

"Fine." Bruce held himself over top of Jonathan carefully. "What's wrong?"

"What?" Jonathan spluttered.

"Ever since dinner you've been strange." Bruce said perfectly calmly. "I'm sorry if I upset you. Why won't you tell me why it upset you so I don't do it again?"

"You're the one who stormed out of your own home." Jonathan pointed out. "I've been fine."

Bruce sighed. "Why did you try to leave the table?"

Jonathan looked straight at Bruce and swallowed thickly before saying softly. "I cannot say I'm used to hearing anything like that. When confronted with a situation I know no response to, I leave the situation."

Bruce looked at Jonathan with near pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jonathan."

"I'm not. Did you need something else, or can I stand up now?" Jonathan flexed his pinned wrists for emphasis. Bruce's hands instinctively clamped tighter.

"You have no idea what they want."

"Correct."

"Who are they?" Bruce whispered.  _You can tell me._

Jonathan took a deep breath. "People I used to...work beside."

_More than that._ Bruce glared.

"Names?"

Jonathan almost smirked. "Mister J and Miss Harleen."

_Closer._

"You mean..." Bruce stared down at him. "Joker and Harley Quinn."

Jonathan grumbled. "Yes."

"Why haven't you gotten help?"

Jonathan cringed. "Someone is taking care of it." He relaxed. "Besides, I can take care of myself."

Bruce frowned. "That's why you're with me."

"Yes."

"The only reason?"

"Yes."  _Not quite. I feel safe here._

Jonathan immediately felt disgusted with himself.

Bruce nodded. He released Jonathan's wrists and sat up. Jonathan sat up as well, keeping his gaze on Bruce's face.

"You only spoke last night?" Jonathan asked hesitantly.  _I shouldn't care._

"Yes."

Jonathan nodded to himself.

"Does it matter?" Bruce had to ask.

Jonathan looked away from the other seated man. He stared instead at his hands, twisting and turning them together in his lap.

"...Yes." he admitted softly.  _And I can't understand why._

"Why?" Bruce asked quietly.

Jonathan stood and moved away from Bruce. Bruce regretfully mused that perhaps he had gone too far.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Jonathan asked from the bathroom doorway.

"Yes." Bruce said softly.

Jonathan nodded and slammed the bathroom door shut. He stood, hands on the sink, staring at his reflection in the ornate mirror.

_What was all that?_

He glared at himself.  _When did it become a good idea to be entirely open with him? I could have faked everything. He wouldn't have known any better!_

Jonathan took a deep breath and fixed his hair instinctively.

_I like him too much to fake everything. He's better company than any of the employees at Arkham._

Jonathan winced with his admission. He heard tentative knocks on the door, followed by a "Jonathan?"

"It's not locked." Jonathan called.

He watched in the mirror as the door swung open slowly and in walked Bruce.

"Yes?" Jonathan swallowed thickly.

"Are you okay?" Bruce murmured. "I'm sorry."

Jonathan shook his head. "I'm fine."

Bruce stepped forward and Jonathan turned to face him. "Bruce?"

"Yeah, Jonathan?" Bruce stopped moving forward.

Jonathan took a deep breath. "I don't mind you."

"What do you mean?" Bruce's eyebrows furrowed.

_I feel so childish._ Jonathan berated himself for even saying anything. "Nothing, it's nothing."

"What is it?" Bruce asked softly.

Jonathan shook his head. He stared at Bruce's worried face one moment too long, stayed still one second too many. Then he was pushing past Bruce, escaping the suddenly too-small room.

"Jonathan!"

"What do you expect from me, Bruce?" Jonathan asked suddenly.

"What?"

Bruce stepped into the room quickly, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean, Jonathan?"

Jonathan mumbled. "I'm sorry. I don't even know for sure what I'm saying."

"You're stressed. "Bruce said soothingly. "It's okay."

Jonathan faced Bruce straight-on. "I want to go home."

"Your apartment? But-" Bruce began.

"No." Jonathan said insistently. "I want to go to Wayne Manor, preferably  _right now._ "

Bruce was incredibly confused. "Alright."

_What are you playing at, Jonathan?_

Bruce went to grab their coats, but Jonathan was already handing it over. Bruce took it with a "thank you" and Jonathan slipped into his own.

_I don't know what's wrong with me._ It infuriated Jonathan.  _But I can't deal with it here._

"Let's go." Bruce led the way out the door.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

Jonathan removed his uncomfortable shoes happily. He set them neatly side by side before standing straight and looking at the billionaire beside him.

"What's wrong, Jonathan?" Bruce asked in concern.

"I'm sorry." Jonathan said in his therapist's voice. "I couldn't bear to be out right now."

"Why?"

Jonathan took a deep breath. "I need a moment alone."

"Of course." Bruce said in confusion.

Jonathan walked away from Bruce, ignoring Alfred entirely as the man walked into the room. Jonathan made his way with single-minded determination to his room. Once there he closed the door and took six steps forward before collapsing to the mattress. He took a deep breath, laying on his back uncomfortably, legs dangling over the side.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He blinked twice quickly in a row. He heard footsteps, heard as they stopped outside his door. He waited for a knock, but none came. He breathed deeply, calming himself as quickly as he could.

Okay. I'm having a fit because I may find Bruce Wayne's company enjoyable. He tried to understand his actions.

Jonathan sat up slowly. "You can come in." He called out.

As he suspected, Bruce had been waiting outside the door. It opened now, slowly, hesitantly. Bruce peered in before stepping in entirely. He closed the door slowly before standing still, not advancing.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked quietly. Why are you acting like this? The Crane I know is cool and collected. What makes you act out?

Jonathan shook his head. "I can't tell you."

Bruce stepped forward and knelt beside the bed. "Jonathan, trust me. Please."

The psychiatrist looked down into seemingly endless eyes. "Bruce..."

Bruce reached out slowly and took Jonathan's in his own. "Is it something I did? Talk to me."

Jonathan shook his head. "No. You haven't done anything wrong." You've done everything too right. I should be in my own apartment, I shouldn't be here enjoying your company.

Jonathan looked over Bruce's sincerely worried face. "Bruce..."

Bruce's grip tightened. "Please talk to me, Jonathan."

"Why you?" Jonathan blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked confusedly.

"All the citizens in Gotham, and Batman sets me in your home. Why you?" Jonathan demanded.

"I wish I knew." Bruce murmured.

"Did he tell you what he was planning? Were you expecting me?" Jonathan shot off his questions. You were so remarkably unsurprised. How is that?

"He didn't tell me anything, Jonathan. I had hoped you would visit, I've told you that." Bruce looked insistently at Jonathan. "Nothing more."

"Mm." Jonathan mumbled.

Jonathan barely registered as one of Bruce's hands left their position on his own, slowly moving to tenderly cup Jonathan's cheek.

"Stop it." Jonathan tore his hand from Bruce's grip to swipe away the offending hand.

"I'm sorry." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan shook his head. "You should be at work." he mumbled softly.

Bruce gave a small smile. "Fox will understand."

Jonathan took a deep breath and made firm eye contact with Bruce. "Why, Bruce? I don't understand." I don't understand why I should choose you of everyone I've met to become interested in.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you saying? What don't you understand?"

"Why you?" Jonathan whispered.

Bruce gave him a soft, gentle smile as his hand rejoined the other, tenderly holding Jonathan's own. Jonathan instinctively curled his fingers, drawing away from Bruce, but the billionaire's fingers intertwined with Jonathan's, holding him firmly in place.

"Is it that bad?" Bruce said quietly, lightly. "Maybe it's time you let someone in, Jonathan."

Jonathan shook his head. "It's never time for that." I say far too much around you.

Bruce murmured. "You could try."

I hardly even know you! A flare of panic ignited in Jonathan. I've been here a matter of days, and our conversations in the cafe hardly qualify as anything!

Jonathan's face twisted into discomfort. We shouldn't be in this position.

Bruce noticed the sour expression. "What are you thinking?"

"That you should leave me alone. That I should go home." Jonathan whispered.

"You wanted to come here." Bruce reminded him.

"A mistake. I'll... I'll come back for my boxes, I can't carry them all at once..." Jonathan said mindlessly.

"And you're going to walk to your apartment? The one probably holding Joker and Harley Quinn right now?" Bruce asked in bewilderment.

"Exercise is healthy." Jonathan stood, trying to disentangle his fingers. "Let go, Bruce."

"No."

Bruce stood to match Jonathan, looking down the few inches to meet Jonathan's gaze. "I'm not letting you leave again."

"You can't keep me here." Jonathan said smoothly, coolly. I can't stay here.

"Batman will bring you back." Bruce murmured.

"No he won't." Jonathan shook his head. "He offered options, I'll choose something different."

"You chose to come here?" Bruce asked in surprise.

"At the time it sounded like the best option." Jonathan pulled his arm back, but Bruce only gripped tighter.

"And now?" Bruce inquired.

"Now it is obviously not."

"What will you do?"

"Accept a different home." Jonathan whispered. I will have to tell the Bat I can no longer remain in Bruce Wayne's company. I will... I will stay with the Bat.

"Where will you stay?" Bruce released one of Jonathan's hands. Jonathan went to move away, but stopped dead as Bruce's arm wrapped around his waist.

"Far away from you." Jonathan gripped Bruce's wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you here with me." Bruce leaned in to whisper in Jonathan's ear. "Don't leave me, Jonathan."

"Playboy Bruce Wayne can find someone else." Jonathan huffed, trying to pull away Bruce's arm, found that he could not budge the firm man.

"I don't want anyone else."

Jonathan closed his eyes tightly, trying unsuccessfully to block out Bruce. The billionaire refused to be ignored, pulling Jonathan flush against him, other arm moving to wrap around Jonathan's back.

"Stop it, Bruce." Jonathan whispered, eyes squeezed shut.

"No." Bruce murmured in Jonathan's ear.

Jonathan opened his eyes and turned his head slightly so that he could just see Bruce's face. Jonathan looked over the calm face, hiding his own guilt as he drew one arm forward as if to move and embrace Bruce in return before slamming his elbow into Bruce's ribs.

Bruce gasped and one arm released Jonathan. Jonathan slipped out of the remainder of Bruce's embrace and whirled around, stepping backwards quickly. He stared at the billionaire's pained face, guilt already filling him.

"Jonathan..." Bruce began.

"I can't do this, Bruce." Jonathan said strongly. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave." Bruce said even more firmly.

Jonathan stepped back as Bruce stood tall. "You cannot keep me here. I'm leaving."

Jonathan frowned. Bruce stood between him and the door- Bruce must have realized it the same moment he did. The billionaire stepped to his left, more fully blocking Jonathan's exit.

"Please explain it to me, Jonathan." Bruce pleaded. "Why would you rather contend with Joker, Harley, and Batman rather than stay here?"

"I would prefer arguing with any of the three than..." Jonathan trailed off.

"Than enjoy yourself?" Bruce filled in the blanks.

Jonathan did not offer an alternative.

"Jonathan, please stay." Bruce stepped forward.

"I can't, Bruce. Why won't you understand that?" Jonathan stepped back. Away from the door...

"It doesn't make any sense!" Bruce insisted. "Even Doctor Crane is allowed to have a good time."

"Doctor Crane." Jonathan sneered. "I'm not Doctor Crane anymore, Bruce. Where are my patients? My staff?" He shook his head. "My own staff attended to me. So smug, they were, tending to their Administrator."

Bruce walked forward slowly. "You can forget about all that here, Jonathan."

"I can't-"

"You can stay here. You're just terrified to stay." Bruce interrupted.

"What would you know?" Jonathan spat.

"Then tell me!" Bruce reached Jonathan, the latter nearly pressed against the wall opposite the door.

Jonathan stared into serious eyes. He did not resist as Bruce's fingers tenderly wrapped around his wrists, pressing them against the wall. Jonathan looked over Bruce's concerned face with some apprehension.

Could I even tell him?

Jonathan murmured. "You would never understand."

"Help me understand." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan pressed his back against the wall, but Bruce simply moved closer. Jonathan could feel the warmth radiating from the larger male, hot breath cascading over his features.

"I can't." Jonathan admitted softly. "There is no conceivable way I can make you understand."

"Yes you can." Bruce whispered. "I know you can."

Jonathan blinked slowly, once, twice, before replying. "I came here for another reasons than the fact that it was the best option. At the time it sounded better than Arkham or the Bat."

Bruce asked quietly. "What were your reasons?" Perhaps he actually will tell me.

"I wanted to learn about the Bat." Jonathan said softly. "If he wanted me here, perhaps you two had a connection I could use to learn about him."

"Is that all?"

Jonathan swallowed thickly, felt that his throat was too dry, that Bruce was too close, that he should have never come back, they should be at Wayne Enterprises so Jonathan could immerse himself in work and forget all about Bruce Wayne, hide away in his little room- where will he work now that he's leaving Bruce and the cafe is no longer any good? and-

Jonathan would have sworn his mind shut down entirely as Bruce Wayne's lips met his own.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

Jonathan froze for one shining second and simply felt as smooth lips caressed his own. Then he was moving, turning his head to the side to dislodge Bruce.

"Don't." Jonathan said weakly.

"Stay with me." Bruce pleaded.

Jonathan reluctantly looked back to Bruce. "Move."

Bruce released the psychiatrist's wrists and stepped back. Jonathan stepped away from the wall and took a deep breath.

"Bruce..." Jonathan could not find any more words to say.

"I want you to stay." Bruce murmured, hands falling limply to his sides.

"I noticed." Jonathan said dryly.

Jonathan breathed in deeply, staring intently at the seemingly nervous billionaire. Bruce leaned slightly to his left, leaving behind his usual perfectly straight stance. Fingers curled slightly, tips barely meeting palms.

"I'll stay." Jonathan muttered.

_I don't know how long I will be able to do this._

Bruce gave him a small smile, lips parting to say something. Jonathan cut him off before he ever began.

"This doesn't change anything." Jonathan stared at him intently.

"...No. No, of course not." Bruce murmured. "But, Jonathan-"

"Bruce, don't." Jonathan said softly. "Don't start."

Jonathan brushed past Bruce on his way to the door, fingers barely reaching to brush down Bruce's arm as he passed. Then Jonathan was walking out of the room, Bruce staring after him incredulously.

Jonathan found himself instinctively sitting in the library, surrounded by the comforting rows of silent books. He leaned back slightly against a bookcase, felt as the spines of nameless novels dug into his shirt and into his skin. His head fell back, eyes staring unseeingly up to the high ceiling.

Deep breaths shook his form, wordless thoughts emptying his mind. Blue eyes closed and blocked out the ceiling.

"Jonathan?"

Jonathan's breath stopped a moment. He resumed gentle breathing, silently sitting still. He heard footsteps make their way around the library, the owner of the feet calling his name again and again.

Jonathan opened his eyes when the footfalls silenced. Bruce stood in front of him, worry written in every line of his face.

"Jonathan, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing all the time." Jonathan commanded.

Confusion flashed across Bruce's face before returning to guilt and worry. "I didn't mean to..." He left off.

"I know."

"But why...?" Bruce stepped forward, crouching down in front of the psychiatrist.

"Why should I be attracted to you?"

Bruce blinked at the bluntness of Jonathan's sharp demand. "I..."

"You're Bruce Wayne." Jonathan shook his head. "As if there is  _one person_  in Gotham who would not wait in line to  _dangle_  on your arm."

Bruce frowned. "I don't need any other company, Jonathan."

Jonathan blinked quickly. "I shouldn't be here."

"This could be your home." Bruce murmured softly.

"No." Jonathan slowly stood. "It can't be."

"And why not?" Bruce followed Jonathan's example and stood.

Jonathan shook his head. "How did we ever get to this, Bruce?"

Bruce looked at him in confusion. He stood still as Jonathan closed the distance between them, one soft hand moving to gently take Bruce's face in hand. Smooth skin lay tenderly against the billionaire. Jonathan took a deep breath, released it in a sigh.

"I really should return home." Jonathan murmured. "Resolve the issue with Joker and move on."

"Jonathan..." Bruce tried to put together enough words to successfully protest.

"It's been fun, Bruce Wayne." Jonathan chuckled dryly.

"I won't let you go." Bruce whispered. "Not when you're letting me in."

"Well, that was my mistake, wasn't it?" Jonathan's voice held no humor. "I let you in."

"You didn't want to." Bruce knew it was truth instantly.

"No." Jonathan admitted softly. "And yet..."

"It'll be okay." Bruce promised, hand mirroring Jonathan's own. "You'll see."

_Why are you doing this, Jonathan? Just when I think you finally open up, just when I think I could lo-_

"Don't you see it won't be?" Jonathan said angrily, tearing away his hand. " _You're Bruce Wayne."_

"So you've already told me." Bruce gripped Jonathan's wrist with his free hand.

"If you haven't noticed, I am not quite one of your socialites."

"I don't  _want_ a socialite. I want your company, Jonathan." Bruce said seriously. "You're  _so_ much more interesting than any of them."

Jonathan closed his eyes briefly before meeting Bruce's stare. "I can't do this."

"Why? Because it's something new?" Bruce asked belligerently.

Jonathan did not even honor Bruce with an answer.

"We can work it out." Bruce whispered. "Trust me, Jonathan."

_I can't trust him._ Jonathan tried to convince himself, but his mouth murmured. "I do. I trust you."

Jonathan barely registered Bruce was moving before he was engulfed in the man's tight embrace. Jonathan awkwardly rested his hands on Bruce's back.

"I'll show you it can work." Bruce promised him.

Jonathan hated himself for it, but he believed Bruce.


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

Jonathan spooned the soup into his mouth silently. Bruce did the same across the table, the only sound in the room the gentle splash of silver meeting liquid, a constant, regular noise. Jonathan noticed a small glance Bruce shot him, the tiny smile curving the man's lips.

Finally Jonathan dropped his spoon into his empty bowl. "I'm finished." He announced.

"You don't want any more? You hardly ate!" Bruce made eye contact.

"I'm sure." Jonathan nodded. "I'll be in my room."

Bruce smiled at him. "Okay."

Jonathan escaped to his room gratefully. Supper had been casual, soup and the best bread Jonathan had ever tasted. Had Alfred entered the room after setting the table Jonathan would have asked if it were home-made. If so, Alfred was teaching him how to make it.

He collapsed onto his bed. Tomorrow he and Bruce were returning to Wayne Enterprises- it would be Jonathan's first true day there. He chose not to admit to himself that he was truly looking forward to doing something different. He would not be forced to smile and interact with countless people as they passed through the cafe and asked things of him. He could hide in his little room behind Bruce.

Blue eyes closed and he felt again the warmth of Bruce against him, the heat that crept into his entire body when Bruce held him gently.

_No._

He sat up immediately, head shaking back and forth violently.  _I can't think about him like that._

_Why? Because you like him?_

Jonathan groaned and stood. He made his way into the bathroom, slowly undoing the buttons down his shirt as he went. He discarded it on the smooth bathroom floor and worked on his pants.

As he switched the shower's water on he heard footsteps in the bedroom. He thought briefly that he had closed the door behind himself, that he did not even hear the door open again. He shrugged, brushing it off as Bruce- or maybe the Bat. Jonathan frowned.

He decided whomever stood in the bedroom could wait as he showered.

Exactly twelve minutes and fifty-three seconds later, Jonathan wrapped his towel around his waist, picked up his dirty clothing in one hand, and opened the door the his bedroom. He took one step and stopped cold.

"Hey, Jonny."

Harley crossed one leg over the other, leaning back on one hand on his bed. The other hand held a gun very noticeably pointed at his face.

"Harley." Jonathan said politely as he moved to drop his clothes beside the dresser. When he arrived home tomorrow, he knew, Alfred would already have taken them away.

"Mr. J's been looking for ya." Harley said conversationally.

"So I gathered."

Jonathan pulled open a drawer and fingered around for boxers. He pulled out a pair and slid into them, ignoring Harley entirely. He continued his quest to dress.

"I miss ya."

Jonathan glanced to Harley as he pulled on a light shirt. "Yeah?"

"Mhm." She nodded dramatically. "We used to have so much fun."

"Is this before or after you were admitted into Arkham?" Jonathan searched a drawer for pull-on pants.

"Both." She said wistfully. "I liked working with ya, Jonny. Even when you were my therapist."

Jonathan found sweats and pulled them on. He draped his towel over his desk chair and finally gave his full attention to Harley.

"Did you need something? Or are we just reminiscing?"

Harley nodded, gun still pointing at Jonathan. "I need ya to come with me and see Mr. J."

Jonathan shook his head. "I don't want to see him right now."

"Why?" She uncrossed her legs and stood. "Are you too busy with Wayne?"

Jonathan swallowed. "It's not quite that."

"He is pretty, Jonny, but you can do better." Harley laughed.

"I'm not doing anything." Jonathan protested.

Harley shrugged ."Do ya think I haven't been watching you two? I can tell." She winked.

Jonathan's heart sank slightly. "Whatever you say, Harley."

She grinned at him. "Does that mean you'll come see Mr. J now?"

He hesitated and she shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. He's coming here if we don't hurry."

"What?"

"He's waiting outside!" Harley said, thrilled. "He decided to come with me."

Jonathan took a deep breath. "Okay-"

"Hello, Scarecrow."

Jonathan cursed silently as Joker pulled himself through the open window behind Harley. She turned her head and gave him a huge smile, a happy cry of "Puddin'!" filling the room.

"You took too, ah, long." Joker eyed Jonathan. "Getting comfortable aren't you?"

Jonathan crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

Joker rolled his eyes. "We've already gone through this bit."

Harley opened her mouth to speak but slammed it shut as the bedroom door opened wide with a violent bang. She aimed the gun at the open doorway, waiting for someone to pass through.

_Bruce, stay away._ Jonathan pleaded.

" _Joker."_

"Bats!"

Jonathan ducked to the side as Harley fired. She missed the figure ducking and weaving into the room, went to fire again, shouted unintelligibly as Batman tore the gun from her grip. Jonathan hurried forward as he saw Joker draw a knife.

"Joker!" Jonathan shouted.

_Oh god, Bruce don't come in, don't come in..._

Batman turned and blocked Joker's attempt. Joker laughed , jumping back. Harley was looking for the gun Batman threw aside- Jonathan found it first. He dove to the ground and grabbed it, automatically pointing at her. She stopped, heart-broken look on her face.

"Jonny." She said softly.

"C'mon, Harl!"

She turned to see Joker heading back out the window, Batman chasing directly after him. Harley gave Jonathan a sad smile and tore after her Joker.

Jonathan blinked, heart pounding against his chest. He set the gun on the floor, shakily standing up.

_Bruce!_

Jonathan shakily ran the window to see Joker and Harley racing away from Wayne Manor. Batman was nowhere to be seen.

"Bruce." He whispered and turned to the door. He hurried into the hallway, glancing towards the man's bedroom.

Bruce's room appeared dark, so Jonathan went the opposite direction and headed for the kitchen. He could ask Alfred where the man had gone after supper- he only hoped Bruce had stayed indoors, had stayed away from the madmen upstairs.

Jonathan found Alfred sitting in the kitchen drinking from a steaming mug. "Alfred!"

Alfred looked up and gave Jonathan a smile. "What can I do for you, Mister Crane?" He asked slowly, steadily.

"Wh-where's Bruce?" Jonathan asked, slightly breathlessly.

"I believe Master Wayne was making a trip to the library." Alfred said calmly. "Is something the matter?"

"How easy is it for someone to climb the outside of the manor and reach my window?"

Alfred stood, setting his cup on the table slowly. "Very difficult, sir."

"I guess they were determined. "he mumbled to himself. "The library?"

"I believe so, sir. He may have been making a stop before that, but he did not say exactly where."

_Bruce..._

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Of course, sir."

Jonathan turned around and hurriedly made his way to the library. He wished he could move faster, or that the library were closer. Either would work.

He opened the large door leading to the library. The lights were on.

"Bruce?" He called.

Silence.

He stepped further into the library, leaving the door open behind him. "Bruce!"

Jonathan swallowed down panic and made his way through the endless bookcases, calling the man's name like a mantra.

_Where else would he have gone? He told Alfred he was headed here... what if Joker or Harley met him first? What if he came to my room and Harley..._

He froze, one foot partially out, ready to take a step.  _What if Harley killed him?_

_She couldn't have._

_What if she did?_

He set his foot firmly on the ground. There really was no reason he was definitely safe.

_I didn't hear a gunshot._

That was a plus.

_Joker had a knife. Was it bloody?_

Jonathan was instantly certain it had been.

_Oh god... Bruce... What do I tell Alfred?_

Jonathan stared blankly.  _What do I tell Alfred? What do I do?_

"Jonathan?"

He blinked and whirled in an arc, running towards the voice. It called his name again in worry, footsteps coming from the entrance to the library.

"Jonathan, are you in here? Alfred told me..."

Jonathan turned a corner and saw Bruce standing there between two shelves, worried face turning as he heard footfalls. Jonathan did not stop running but instead collided with the billionaire, arms embracing the man he thought dead.

"Jonathan, what happened?" Bruce whispered as he wrapped his arms confusedly around the smaller man.

"I was so worried." Jonathan mumbled.

"Alfred said you were asking about me?" Bruce asked softly.  _He also told me how scared you sounded._

"Are you hurt?" Jonathan pulled his head back to look over Bruce.

"No. Should I be?" Bruce murmured, light teasing entering his voice.

"It was Joker and Harley." Jonathan whispered.

Bruce's embrace tightened. "They were here?"

Jonathan nodded and rested his head against Bruce's chest.

"Are they still- are you okay? How did..." Bruce could not seem to decide what he wanted to ask first.

"I'm fine. Batman must have followed them- he knew they were here and chased them out." Jonathan murmured into Bruce's chest.

"They didn't hurt you?" Bruce asked again in concern.

"No."

Jonathan felt as one of Bruce's hands left his back, the other tightening. He raised his head as Bruce's hand met his cheek. Jonathan stared into Bruce's worried eyes.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Bruce murmured.

"I'm glad you weren't. Who knows what they would have done." Jonathan let out a small chuckle.

"You shouldn't have to be alone."

41;l"The Bat was there." Jonathan muttered.

"I know, but..." Bruce shrugged, a tiny raise and drop of his shoulders.

Jonathan did not move away as Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Bruce pulled back, murmuring. "Is this okay?"

Jonathan was afraid to answer. It was incredibly okay, but he could hardly even admit that to himself.

So he gave tiny nod.

Bruce smiled and did it again. Then he released Jonathan and took a step back.

"We have an early day tomorrow. You should sleep." Bruce smiled.

"I'm not the only one." Jonathan reminded him.

"I have something to do first."

Jonathan went to question him, but Bruce shook his head. "You'll see."

"Is that a promise?" Jonathan tested.

Bruce hesitated. "Maybe."

Jonathan frowned. Bruce gave him a small smile.

"Someday." Bruce whispered in Jonathan's ear. "Then you'll understand."

Jonathan was forced to take his word for it. They left the library together, Bruce switching off the light on his way out.


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

Jonathan sat eating long before Bruce rolled out of bed. He mindlessly made his way through the plate of waffles and syrup Alfred had set in front of him, eyes roving over the newspaper in front of him with some regret.

Bruce walked into the room and immediately saw the sour look creasing Jonathan's face. "What's wrong?"

In reply Jonathan threw the paper to the table so that Bruce could read. Bruce stood behind Jonathan, leaning over to read the headline.

_Cafe and Resident Employees Burned._

_That reporter is brutal._

Bruce scanned the article quickly. He caught the names of Jonathan's co-workers...ex-coworkers, he reminded himself.

"Izzie and the others...he burned down their homes." Jonathan's voice was hollow. "Joker left his card outside the front doors."

"Jonathan, I'm sorry." Bruce rested one hand on Jonathan's back.

"She told me she refused to read in the paper that I had died." Jonathan glanced back at Bruce. "She didn't want me in trouble... instead she and the others..."

"This isn't your fault." Bruce consoled.

"How is it not my fault?" Jonathan demanded. He took the paper in hand and read aloud. "'...Written on the joker card was one word- Crane. Two pairs of fingerprints were also found on the card, but the identities have not yet been disclosed...' Joker called me out, Bruce. And those prints are probably ours."

"They might not be." Bruce's stomach nearly dropped out.  _Gordon kept the card. Maybe he's the only one who knows. I have to talk to him._

Jonathan shook his head. "Joker was here last night. I should have gone with him."

"You cared about them that much?" Bruce whispered.  _You've changed._

Jonathan murmured. "I didn't want them dead."

"You might be in their place."

"No." Jonathan said confidently. "Joker doesn't want me dead."  _Not yet._

Bruce was silent a moment before he squeezed Jonathan's shoulder. He released and went to sit beside Jonathan.

"Hey." Bruce said softly. "This isn't your fault. They'll catch Joker."

Jonathan let out a hoarse laugh. "How could they? The police department couldn't even catch..."  _Me._

"Batman-" Bruce began quietly.

"Ha." Jonathan barked. "The Bat Man. Of course."

"Do you have something against him personally?" Bruce murmured. "Besides the fact that he brought you here, I mean."

"That doesn't bother me anymore." Jonathan waved it off. Bruce wondered if Jonathan realized he had said it aloud but said nothing as Jonathan continued. "He stole my position from me, dumped me in Arkham, took away my reputation, sprayed me with my own toxin..."

_You lit me on fire._ "You  _were_ trying to poison the whole city." Bruce said gently.

Jonathan glared at him. "You're defending a giant bat?"

Bruce opened his mouth to speak as Jonathan pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "You can have the rest of those." He gestured to his plate and stalked off.

Jonathan returned to his room, glancing at the clock angrily.  _Twenty minutes before we leave._

_He defended the Bat._

The thought ran circles in Jonathan's head. The man he unconsciously decided to trust sided with the Bat Man!

"Jonathan."

He turned to see an abashed Bruce standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't defending him."  _Even if it is true you_ were  _poisoning everyone._

"Then what would you call it, Bruce?" Jonathan walked swiftly into the bathroom.

Bruce walked in to see Jonathan brushing his teeth with a vengeance.

_This is why I can't let anyone in._ Jonathan thought angrily.  _They will always leave._

"Perhaps I was teasing you, Jonathan." Bruce said lightly.

"Mm." Jonathan spat in the sink. "Tell me, Bruce, did it ever reach the Palisades?"

"The Toxin?"

"Mhm."

"No."

Jonathan looked in the mirror to make eye contact with Bruce. "What would you have seen?"

"...My parents."

Jonathan turned around to make proper eye contact. "Your parents... of course."

"And you, Jonathan?" Bruce asked softly. "What did you see?"

Jonathan swallowed and pushed past Bruce. "The Bat." he said shortly. He missed the pained look on Bruce's face.

The psychiatrist unconsciously fixed his shirt, checking each button with his fingers. He stood still as Bruce walked up behind him, ignored the billionaire even as warm hands landed delicately on his hips. Blue eyes closed momentarily as Bruce leaned his head in to Jonathan's throat.

"I'm sorry." Bruce murmured into Jonathan's flesh.

Jonathan took a deep breath. He pushed gently out of Bruce's embrace, turning his head slightly to murmur. "We should go."

Bruce glanced at the watch around his wrist. "You're right."

Jonathan barely resisted an "Of course."

Bruce held out one hand with a large, genuine smile. Jonathan hesitated, hand held out but not quite touching the billionaire's. He expected the man to simply go ahead and take it but was pleasantly surprised when Bruce waited. After a moment Jonathan rested his hand on Bruce's. Bruce's smile grew as his fingers entwined with Jonathan's.

Bruce led the way out of the room. Jonathan held on tightly to Bruce, afraid he was going to wake up after letting himself fall so far.

He knew he would not be able to do it again.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

Jonathan let his head fall to his desk in exasperation.

"You shouldn't even  _be_ here." The angry voice continued in front of him.

He looked up, trying to keep his anger from boiling over into his voice as he spoke quietly to Bruce's secretary. "I've been hired by Wayne Enterprises the same as you. It would be best if  _you did your job."_

He took a deep breath and cut her off before she could start in again. "I'm sure Mr. Wayne would prefer if you stayed at your desk where you're supposed to be."

"What would I prefer?"

Jonathan leaned back in his chair slightly as Bruce walked into the room with a grin, bag in hand. He dropped the bag onto the wood in front of Jonathan before turning to his secretary.

"Oh! Did you need something?"

She glared at Jonathan but then grinned at Bruce. "Not at all. I was simply having a conversation with the new... employee."

She turned on one heel and strode from the room. Jonathan rolled his eyes and pulled open the bag in front of him. Bruce perched lightly on the desk and watched silently as Jonathan began pulling out the box he knew to be his lunch.

"Thanks." Jonathan said quietly.

"No need for that." Bruce smiled. "Was she bothering you?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Don't let her back in here."

"I won't." Bruce said seriously. "Unless you'd rather...?"

_Just have her job?_ "No."

Bruce shrugged. "If you're sure."

"Entirely."

Jonathan found the fork hiding in the plastic bag before diving into his salad. Bruce sat and watched him delicately eat. Jonathan had taken a mere three bites before glancing up at Bruce.

"You aren't eating?"

Bruce shrugged. "I'll eat later."

"It's your lunch break."

"So I'll eat at the end of it." Bruce waved it off.

Jonathan swallowed his bite and asked. "Why do you work here if you hardly do anything?"

Bruce seemed taken aback a moment. "It was my father's company. I'd like to keep a hand in it."

_All about his parents._

Jonathan nodded once and continued eating. Bruce watched him a moment before standing and returning to his office. Jonathan waited to see if he would close the door- he did not. From his position he could see Bruce sit at his desk, but that was about it. The door to the bathroom was in his line of sight, but barely. He wished he could see the front door.

He especially wished he could see it as he heard it open. He listened closely for a voice but only heard Bruce's "Good afternoon!" Bruce continued speaking, explaining that he was sorry he was unprepared, his secretary had not told him she was coming, what was her name again?

Jonathan jumped as a gun shot rang out.

He was immediately on his feet, watching as Bruce fell back. He ran into the office, dropping to his knees beside the billionaire. Bruce looked up at him with lightly glazed eyes. Jonathan cradled the man's head in his lap, looking towards the open door. He could see no one, could see no traces anyone had been there.

_Where is security? Someone should be here by now..._

Jonathan looked back to Bruce, to the crimson staining his perfect white shirt. Jonathan swallowed thickly, reaching for Bruce's hand. He gripped it tightly, trying to force words through his lips.

"Bruce..." He murmured. "Help will be here soon."

_Somebody, please..._

"Jonathan..." Bruce mumbled.

"Shh." Jonathan said softly. "It'll be okay."

Bruce shook his head. "No, Jonathan, I-"

"What's the point of being such a wealthy company if you can't even afford protection?" Jonathan's voice broke.

He could only watch helplessly as Bruce bled. "Bruce..."

"Jonathan..." Bruce murmured breathlessly.

"You can't..."

"JONATHAN!"

Jonathan blinked, head flying up from the desk. He looked around in confusion before his gaze settled on the worried face of Bruce. Bruce, in his pristine white shirt, neatly tucked into black pants.

"Are you okay?" Bruce frowned. "You're crying."

Jonathan hastily took off his glasses and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  _A dream. A stupid dream._

"I'm fine." Jonathan swallowed.

"It's time for lunch. Anywhere in particular you'd like to go?" Bruce smiled, but he still looked worried.

Jonathan blinked and looked over Bruce as he stood. "No, it doesn't matter."

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed.  _When does Jonathan not care?_

Bruce stood completely still as Jonathan circled the desk, never removing his gaze from the other. Bruce turned to face the psychiatrist silently. Jonathan raised both hands and pressed them to Bruce's chest. A tiny smile lifted the corners of his lips and he leaned up to gently kiss the corner of Bruce's mouth. He settled back down, hands still on Bruce's shirt.

"Let's go anywhere you want." Jonathan said with a sweetness Bruce did not recognize and was immediately suspicious of.

_What is he thinking?_ Bruce pondered. "Okay. Let's go."

Jonathan was content to grip Bruce's hand tightly as they left the office. Bruce did not know where to take Jonathan; He would decide on the way.


	31. Chapter Thirty

"You fell asleep?' Bruce turned the wheel deftly to avoid the car merging recklessly into his lane.

"I suppose I didn't sleep well last night." Jonathan said quietly.

Jonathan sat as close to Bruce as he could without leaving his seat. He was unaware he was doing it- had he realized he would have moved away.

"Were you dreaming?"

Jonathan hesitated. That told Bruce everything.

"About what?" Bruce asked smoothly.

"...Work." Jonathan murmured.

_There's more to it than that._ Bruce knew.

"Is that all?"

Jonathan looked to Bruce. "Would anyone want to kill you?"

Bruce let out a laugh. "What's this?"

"Nothing." Jonathan looked out his window.

Bruce was silent a moment. "Did... was I there? In your dream?"

"Yes."

Bruce frowned. "It didn't end well." It was not a question.

"No."

Bruce pulled into the closest parking lot. Jonathan looked out the window to see it was a grocery store. "Bruce?"

Bruce unbuckled his seat belt and turned as much as he could to face Jonathan. "I'm here."

"I know that."

Bruce gently rested his hands on either side of Jonathan's face. "It was just a dream."

"I  _know."_ He said in some irritation. "I'm not a  _child."_

Jonathan felt weak. Bruce could see it in the way he held himself, in the way he refused to keep eye contact.

Bruce leaned in to press his lips firmly against Jonathan's. He pulled back a centimeter, whispering. "I know."

Jonathan closed the distance between them. Bruce let the younger man take control, felt as the man's fingers twisted in his shirt. Jonathan pulled away, lowering his face and breathing hotly against Bruce's neck.

"I'm sorry." Jonathan pulled away.

"Don't be." Bruce grabbed onto Jonathan's shoulders.

Jonathan finally met Bruce's gaze.  _I'm..._

_I'm scared_ was the thought Jonathan refused to allow himself to have. It registered even as he did not acknowledge it.

But Bruce seemed to know anyway. "Jonathan?"

"Mm?"

Bruce hesitated. "Never mind."

Jonathan shook his head. "You can't do that. What were you going to say?"

"Let's get going."

"No!"

Bruce's eyebrows rose as Jonathan reached over him to pull away the keys. The vehicle went silent.

"What were you going to say?" Jonathan demanded.

"Please give me my keys." Bruce held out one hand.

"After you tell me." Jonathan said firmly.

Bruce said. "We're going to be late back if we wait around."

"So tell me."

Bruce looked over Jonathan's openly determined face.  _It was a mistake._

Jonathan read the guilt in Bruce's eyes. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Jonathan fought the instinct to move as Bruce reached around him with one arm, fingers entwining in dark hair. Jonathan found it relatively easy to resist moving as Bruce kissed him again. Blue eyes fluttered shut as he melted into the man.

Bruce tentatively ran his tongue over Jonathan's lips, begging entrance. He drew Jonathan's lower lip into his mouth, sucking tenderly. He nearly pulled away, thinking he had asked for too much, but then Jonathan was letting him in. Bruce wrapped his other arm around Jonathan, hand pressed firmly on his back.

Jonathan, for his part, let himself fall. He relaxed into Bruce, hands flat against the other's chest.

Bruce ran his tongue over Jonathan's own, nearly grinning as he swallowed the small groan the psychiatrist released. Hands clenched on his chest, gripping fabric fiercely.

Jonathan could not bring himself to regret the small noises he let go.

Bruce pulled back, smiling at the sight in front of him. Jonathan's eyes were still closed, wet lips parted.

"What were you going to say?" Jonathan murmured as he opened his eyes.

_I guess even that won't make him forget._

"Is it that important?"

"Because you won't tell me, yes." Jonathan dangled Bruce's keys in the air.

_I could take those from you without any trouble._

Bruce hated the thought as soon as it ran through his head. He let go of the smaller man, readjusting in his seat.

"Jonathan?"

The psychiatrist waited expectantly.

Bruce dove in for another kiss before whispering in Jonathan's ear. "I think I'm really falling for you."

He took the keys from the stunned man's hands on his way back up. He slid the key in the ignition and started the car. He looked over to see Jonathan staring at him.

Jonathan struggled to speak. "Bruce..."

"No, I'm sorry. I was out of line." Bruce went to pull out of the lot.

Jonathan mumbled under his breath. "But I'm doing the same."

Bruce smiled tenderly at him. "Let's go eat."

Jonathan nodded. He could think of nothing he wanted more at that moment than be out of the car and away from the thoughts now clouding his head.


	32. Chapter Thirty One

Jonathan was honestly surprised by the small building Bruce led him into. Bruce flashed a smile at the passing waitress as he approached the host. Jonathan was reminded of his cafe. Perhaps if it had been more popular it would have eventually turned into an establishment such as the one he stood in.

"Table for two, please." Bruce smiled. He leaned in and murmured. "Somewhere out of the way."

"O-of course." Stuttered the host.

Jonathan followed the host, Bruce two steps behind him. The host led the duo to a private booth near the back, a small wall the back of one bench. Bruce nodded his approval and slid onto one bench. Jonathan wordlessly sat on the opposite.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" The host set two menus on the table.

"Two waters."

The man nodded and walked away swiftly. Jonathan looked to Bruce, almost surprised by his choice. Bruce flashed a small smile.

Jonathan opened his mouth to speak but a chilling voice stopped him short. "He _llo."_

He looked to the side in some dread. He knew the man standing next to them, a tray on one hand with two glasses of water carefully perched on top. Latex could not entirely cover the scars from Jonathan's view. He knew most people would be fooled- would Joker fool Bruce?

"Can I, ah, get you anything to  _eat?"_ Joker asked in a falsely sweet voice.

Jonathan motioned for Joker to lean in. To his surprise, the man did. Jonathan almost regretted it as the awful smile came closer.

"We can take this elsewhere."

"Ah,  _no."_ Joker laughed.

Jonathan glanced over to see Bruce's interested, worried face. "I'm going to the restroom." Jonathan announced. "We'll order when I come back."

He promptly stood and pushed Joker out of the way. He did indeed walk through the nearby door into the restroom. He knew Joker was following him and was glad.

"Alright." Jonathan turned to face Joker, ignoring the row of mirrors beside them, the rows of Jonathans and Jokers.

"It's really time you joined Harley and myself."

"I really do not see an advantage to doing so." Jonathan crossed his arms.

"Your little Prince out there won't be harmed." Joker stared at Jonathan. "Not like your, um, well, were they even friends of yours?"

Jonathan grit his teeth. "Leave Bruce alone."

"We were gonna do your place, but what's the point when you're not there?" Joker sighed.

Jonathan stood silent a moment before murmuring. "I don't want him to be suspicious of anything."

Joker smirked. "We'll come get you tonight."

One deep breath, then Jonathan said. "Okay."

Joker grinned an awful grin. Jonathan's fingers itched for a canister of toxin, wished there was a way he could have some ready by that evening.

"See you then, sweetheart." Joker sneered as Jonathan passed him.

Jonathan glanced back briefly as he pushed open the door and emerged into the restaurant. He immediately made his way back to Bruce, sliding into his seat quietly.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked.

"Nothing." Jonathan lied smoothly.

Jonathan looked over the menu blindly for something to order. He schooled his face into a blank mask, trying to read the paper in his hands but too distracted to even begin to make out the words.

"Jonathan." Bruce whispered.

He could have  _sworn_ he knew that voice as someone else's. Jonathan looked to Bruce, trying to place it.

"Yes?"

"Please tell me."

Jonathan looked over Bruce's face and shook his head. "I can't."

Bruce stared at him pleadingly. Jonathan murmured. "You'll be fine."

Confusion crossed Bruce's face. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Nothing." Jonathan swallowed. "What are you ordering?"

"Yes, what  _are_ you ordering?"

Jonathan glanced up to see Joker's dark smile. "I will have the garden salad."

"And you?" Joker turned his grin to Bruce.

"I'll have the same."

Jonathan looked to Bruce as Joker skipped away. "Not what I would have expected from you."

Bruce shrugged. "If you are ordering it then it must be good."

Jonathan forced a small onto his face. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

_Maybe Joker won't come until Bruce is sleeping. Then I won't have to worry about them meeting... as if Joker would let him go without harm..._

"What's on your mind?" Bruce asked softly.

Jonathan clasped his hands together on the table. "Do you trust me, Bruce?"

Bruce reached across the table to lay his hands over top Jonathan's. Jonathan let Bruce's fingers separate his hands, stayed still as Bruce entwined his fingers with Jonathan.

"Of course."

_Even if I really shouldn't. But you've been honest with me- whether I'm Bruce Wayne or Batman._

Jonathan tightened his grasp on Bruce's hands. "Then believe me when I say it's not important."  _As important as, say, inviting mad criminals into your home._

_I know that was Joker. Don't hide_ this  _from me. Please._ "It may be important to me." Bruce pleaded softly.

Jonathan shook his head. "It'll all be over tomorrow."

_I'll be safely away from you where I can't fall for you anymore. Joker will stop entering your home... everything will be over._

_And you'll be out of my life._

Jonathan tried to convince himself it really was for the best- he certainly was not going to  _miss_ the billionaire. But then...

_It hasn't been bad._

Bruce sat up and leaned across the table, stomach pressing painfully into the table as he kissed Jonathan's forehead.

Jonathan took a deep breath as Bruce sat back, hands still gripping the other's.  _No, it really is best I leave._

Bruce took back his hands as Joker approached with their meals. They ate in uncomfortable silence, ignoring the "waiter" that passed by all-too often.

They ate quickly, hustling out the door after paying with the reasoning that they would be back late to Wayne Enterprises. Both ignored the fact that no one would ever accuse Bruce Wayne- and in extension Jonathan Crane- of being late.


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

Jonathan sat at his desk reading over the papers Bruce had given him as soon as they had arrived back from lunch. Jonathan did not mind going over the company's numbers- even if he was still a little surprised so much money went into Applied Sciences. Had it not been described as a wasteland of sorts? Then again, a new Archiving system could be expensive- he would not know. He never implemented one in Arkham.

He lay out three sheets, checking between them with an interest born from distraction. He did not want to think about the man sitting right outside his little room nor of the man visiting him in the evening. He had no doubt Joker and Harley would be there tonight, crawling through his window and whisking him away from Wayne Manor.

Jonathan sighed as he stacked the papers, finished with his overview. He stood and took them in hand, slipping them back into their bland folder before slowly making his way into Bruce's office.

He stopped still at the sight.

Bruce was sleeping at his desk.

Jonathan felt he should not have been surprised- this was Bruce, after all. He crept up beside the desk and went to place the folder softly on the wood. As soon as he stepped beside the desk Bruce rose his head, instantly awake.

"You're done with those already?"

Jonathan wondered just how the man could be so incredibly awake when he had been sleeping so soundly. "Yes."

"Mm. Okay." Bruce took the folder, fingers sliding against Jonathan's own.

"Do you have anything else for me to work on?" Jonathan questioned.

Bruce looked over the paper-strewn desk. "Maybe?"

Jonathan stood beside Bruce as the latter sorted through papers. Bruce stacked every paper he had in a single pile and placed them to the side. He glanced up to Jonathan and patted the desk invitingly.

Jonathan knew what Bruce wanted him to do and refused. "I am not sitting on the desk."

"Just this once." Bruce promised.

_It's not as though he'll have the chance to ask again._

Jonathan sat primly on the edge. Bruce stood from the chair, pushing it back and out of the way. He looked down as he rested his hands on Jonathan's legs, spreading them slightly so that he could stand between them. Only when he stood comfortably between them- in his opinion, anyway; Jonathan had a different definition of comfort- did he look up to Jonathan.

Jonathan looked over Bruce's concerned face.  _He knows something is wrong._

"Bruce?"

Bruce said nothing but pressed his lips against Jonathan's. Blue eyes closed, lips almost instinctively parting to welcome Bruce. Bruce held one hand against Jonathan's back, holding the man close as he pushed forward.

_What can it hurt when this is the last time?_ Jonathan wondered.

Bruce was taken slightly aback as Jonathan's hands gripped his sides tightly, pulling Bruce impossibly closer. Jonathan opened his mouth further, drawing in the billionaire with his hands and his tongue.

Jonathan pressed himself against Bruce, wishing he were standing on the ground so that he could push himself against the larger form. As soon as he wished it he moved forward, pushing Bruce back inches as he slid off the desk.

Bruce enveloped Jonathan entirely, hands resting comfortably on his back. Jonathan held impossibly tight onto Bruce's sides.

And then Jonathan was pulling away, disentangling himself from Bruce's mouth, running his tongue over his wet lips. Bruce looked over Jonathan's wistfully satisfied face, hiding his suspicion behind contentment.

"Jonathan?" Bruce asked softly.

"Shh." Jonathan shook his head and pressed a finger to Bruce's lips.

Bruce looked at him questioning but Jonathan only smiled at him gently. Bruce stepped back and Jonathan slipped out from between him and the desk. Jonathan's fingers brushed Bruce's arm as he passed by.

"If you have anything you need me to do, bring it in." Jonathan called back quietly as he walked into his room. He closed the door behind himself.

Jonathan rested his head on his desk, staring out into the room. He scanned the blank walls for a clock, wondering why Bruce would choose not to hang one on the wall. It could only have been an hour or so since lunch- how long did they have until returning to Wayne Manor? Until Jonathan ran off with Joker?

He sighed and closed his eyes. Had the opportunity to leave presented itself days ago he would have taken it without a second thought. Now he found he did not truly want to leave the man in the other room.

_I shouldn't be thinking like that._

Jonathan sighed and sat up straight, stretching out but instinctively returning to a professional position when the door opened slowly.

"Did you find something?" Jonathan asked as Bruce slowly made his way into the room.

"Not yet, but I think Mr. Fox has some papers we need to go over." Bruce shrugged. "He'll send them when he has a moment."

Jonathan looked over Bruce's blank face. "What's on your mind?" Jonathan questioned. He was not so much looking for the exact answer, just the way Bruce delivered it.

Bruce said nothing until he stood before Jonathan's desk, staring down unnervingly at the man. Jonathan neatly met his gaze, patiently waiting for him to speak.

"Jonathan?" Bruce asked slowly. "Is something wrong?"

"Why would you think that?" Jonathan questioned in reply.

Bruce shrugged. "No real-"

"Bruce, I am a certified psychiatrist. Don't waste my time lying." Jonathan interrupted sharply.

A small snort escaped the billionaire. "Alright then. If you're so good, you should know."

Jonathan raised his chin slightly and eyed Bruce. "I am acting out of sorts in regard to any of my previous behavior."

"As a matter of fact..." A smile crossed Bruce's face before dropping away. "Well?"

"Is it so hard to believe that perhaps..." Jonathan hesitated. "Perhaps I would rather not continue to push you away?"

Bruce smiled softly. "No, only that you would change your attitude so quickly."

Jonathan shrugged. "I make up my mind and do not waste time changing."

"Mm."

Jonathan stood, one hand resting on the desk. "Is that...is that everything you needed?"

_This is the last day I'll spend with him._

"Yeah. I'll bring in the papers when Fox sends them."

Jonathan watched as Bruce turned towards the door before calling softly. "Wait."

"What is it?" Bruce looked back to him.

_One more day, and it's halfway gone._

"Stay with me?" Jonathan wished he had phrased it better, wished he sounded stronger.

"Of course." Bruce looked confused but agreed.

Jonathan offered his chair to Bruce, who confusedly took it. Dark eyes kept their gaze on Jonathan as the latter settled neatly in Bruce's lap, facing the man with something akin to sadness in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Bruce whispered.

Jonathan shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Jonathan..." Bruce said warningly.

A deep breath. Then- "Please drop it."

Jonathan sighed to himself as Bruce's hand settled firmly on his hips. "Not this."

"And if I promised to tell you in the morning?" Jonathan whispered.

Bruce gave him a tiny smile. "Why should I wait when you could tell me now?"

Jonathan looked over Bruce's face.  _Funny, how I wanted away from him so badly and now..._

"Because there are better things you could be doing with your time." Bruce was not sure he heard correctly.

He was suddenly very certain when Jonathan was nestled close against his chest, lips grazing over his ear. Jonathan closed his eyes, resting his head on Bruce's shoulder.

_He may as well as enjoy himself..._

It made sense to Jonathan. He pressed a soft kiss against Bruce's throat, right above the collar of his shirt. Fingers gently rested on Bruce's shoulders.

"Jonathan?" Bruce questioned softly.

"Shh." Jonathan raised his head slightly to murmur. "Isn't this what you want?"  _You may as well have it before I go._

"Not here." Bruce whispered.

"Worried for your image?" Jonathan smirked.  _I would be, if I had one any longer._

"No." Bruce murmured. "But is your office chair the most comfortable spot?"

_It's now or never._

"I suppose not." Jonathan conceded.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Jonathan was up and across the room before Bruce was even sure what had happened. Bruce stood, instinctively heading towards the call of his name.

"Ah, Mr. Fox!"

Jonathan fixed his shirt unconsciously as he made his way into Bruce's office. He watched as Fox handed Bruce a folder, the man glancing over at Jonathan briefly.

"Did you remember about the meeting tonight?" Fox asked quietly.

Bruce looked sheepish. "I'm sure it's really nothing you need me for."

"If you have better things to do with your time, Mr. Wayne..." Fox left off.

"I do." Bruce nodded.

Fox flashed a smile. "I don't think we'll miss you too much."

"Thanks." Bruce grinned.

Fox nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then." Bruce watched Fox exit the room before turning to Jonathan. "We can head out, if you want."

Jonathan debated hesitantly a moment before nodding.


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

Jonathan toed out of his shoes and neatly set them side by side. He had another pair in his room- those he would wear when Joker came and whisked him away. He had never liked these ones anyway.

He looked up to see Bruce standing beside him, hands deep in pants pockets. "Did you need something?" Jonathan questioned.

In a way of response, Bruce stepped forward and chastely pressed his lips to Jonathan's forehead.

_Moment's gone, Bruce._  Jonathan thought with some regret.  _I can't do it now._

"Join me?" Bruce asked softly.

"Where?" Jonathan tried to read dark eyes but was startled to see he could find nothing.  _Just like someone else I know...but who?_

"I was thinking of getting some reading in." Bruce smiled.

Jonathan glanced at the ornate clock on the wall. Surely Joker would not visit for hours yet, would wait until evening.

"I'll join you."

It turned out Bruce's idea of reading was cuddling together on his bed with books in hand. Jonathan leaned against Bruce's shoulder as he made his way through yet another psychology book. Bruce seemed to be working through every classic he could think of.

Jonathan moved impossibly closer to Bruce, pressing against him unconsciously. He adjusted his glasses with one finger before moving his book closer. He missed the fond smile Bruce directed towards the top of his head.

Bruce mindlessly ran his fingers up and down Jonathan's arm when the man moved closer. He smiled into his book, glancing down at the dark hair splayed on his shoulder. Jonathan's hair was growing long- who knows how much time had passed since he had last cut it.

"Bruce?" Jonathan asked suddenly, quietly.

"Yeah?" Bruce lowered his book and looked to Jonathan.

Jonathan leaned his head back so he could gently kiss Bruce's throat. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Letting me stay."

"Don't thank me. I enjoy having you here."

Jonathan smiled and kissed Bruce's flesh once more before returning to his book. He felt as Bruce's lips pressed against his head, leaving a soft kiss before his chin took its place, resting softly in Jonathan's hair.

Jonathan's smile slipped and fell as he glanced at the clock on Bruce's dresser. Alfred would soon have dinner prepared, then Jonathan would lock himself away in his room and wait for Joker.

Bruce's book moved to the side as Jonathan sat up, his own book discarded across the mattress. Jonathan turned to entirely face Bruce, small, sad smile twisting his lips. He leaned forward, fingers splayed on the mattress for support as he kissed Bruce.

Jonathan pulled back, resting his forehead on Bruce's shoulder. He smiled gently as Bruce's hand slid down his back, clasping Jonathan's waist and pulling him closer. Jonathan positively snuggled up into Bruce, tucking himself into Bruce's embrace.

The psychiatrist always excelled in denial- but even he could not deny he felt safe, perhaps safer than he ever had, in Bruce Wayne's arms.

"Jonathan?" Bruce whispered.

_Don't speak._

"Are you okay?"

_Just sit with me. Don't spoil it._

"Can I-"

"Shhh." Jonathan whispered pleadingly.

Concern lined Bruce's face. Arms wrapped tightly around the smaller man, tightly holding him close. Jonathan's fingers twisted in Bruce's pristine shirt, clutching as if they would never let go. It was not lost on Bruce.

"Jonathan." Bruce whispered.

"Hush." Jonathan said sharply.

"No." Bruce murmured. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You admitted there was something when you promised to tell me in the morning." Bruce muttered.

Jonathan said quietly. "Then I suppose I shall tell you in the morning."  _One promise I do not have to keep._

"Please, Jonathan." Bruce pleaded. "Whatever it is, I can help you."

_No you cannot. I am not letting you anywhere near Joker or Harley._

"I'm taking care of it." Jonathan promised. It was not entirely a lie.

Bruce took a deep breath. "Jonathan-"

"No." Jonathan pressed his lips to Bruce's.

Bruce turned his head away, Jonathan's eyebrows furrowing in irritation. "Listen, Jonathan."

"I'm not the one who hasn't been listening, Bruce." Jonathan said crossly.

"Please." Bruce pressed a soft kiss to Jonathan's forehead. "Tell me what's going on."

"Tomorrow."  _Never._

"..." Bruce looked over Jonathan's stubborn face.

"First thing tomorrow morning." Bruce said slowly.

"First thing."

Bruce reluctantly nodded. Jonathan seemed to want only to be held, so hold him Bruce did.


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

Jonathan picked apart his lasagna with interest, peeling away delicate layers of pasta, sauce, and cheese. Bruce walked the man without a word.

When satisfied, Jonathan rebuilt the entire formation. When the last herb-covered noodle sat in its place on top of everything else, he cut into the perfect square and began to eat.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Do you always torture your pasta first?"

"Only in special circumstances." Jonathan said casually.

"Mm." Bruce shook his head with a smile.

Jonathan chewed and swallowed automatically. He glanced at the clock again- quarter till eight. He returned his gaze to the plate, not even looking at the man sitting beside him.

"What would you like to do tomorrow?"

Jonathan sent a confused glance towards Bruce. "Don't we work tomorrow?"

"Yes." Bruce admitted. "But we can always go out afterwards."

"Oh." Jonathan looked back to his plate. "If you would like."

"So where does Jonathan Crane go for fun?" Bruce asked lightly, disguising his serious interest.

Jonathan smirked into his lasagna as he answered. "My... laboratory."

_There I was hoping he went out once and a while._ "No where else?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I never spent money on...entertainment. I had work to do."

_I should have continued that work, should have been prepared for Joker and Harley._

_I would never have ended up here._

Jonathan looked over to Bruce for a moment.  _Maybe._

_Probably not. I saw him every day at the cafe but never wanted anything from him._

_I'm only with Bruce because of the Bat._

Jonathan felt that the fact rather soiled everything. But then Bruce's hand was gently resting on his knee and Jonathan was smiling at Bruce, looking over the love-filled gaze centered on him.

"Bruce... What would you like to do tomorrow?"

Bruce thought a moment then shrugged. "I was hoping you had something you enjoyed. I'll have to think about it. If you have any ideas..." he left off an invitation.

"I'll let you know." Jonathan finished.

Bruce smiled. "Good."

When eight-thirty showed, he reluctantly pushed away his plate and gave a smile to Bruce.

"I could not possibly eat any more." Jonathan shook his head.

Bruce smiled. "Do you have anything planned for tonight?"

Jonathan nodded. "I want to be in my room this evening. I have some personal work to do."

_Oh?_ "Need any help?" Bruce offered with false casualness.

"No thank you." Jonathan forced a smile.

Jonathan stood. He stayed still beside Bruce's seat a moment before diving down and catching the unsuspecting man's lips. Jonathan pulled away a centimeter and turned his head slightly so he whispered in Bruce's ear.

"I love you."

Bruce looked up to Jonathan with wide eyes. "Jonathan-"

"Don't." Jonathan commanded. "I'll be in my room. See you tomorrow, Bruce."

"Jon-"

"No." Jonathan pressed a finger to Bruce's lips. "Trust me, okay?"

"But I don't understand." Bruce said softly.

"Everything will be clear in the morning." Jonathan whispered smoothly. "I promise."

"Okay." Bruce said quietly.

"Thank you." Jonathan murmured.

Jonathan pressed a soft kiss to Bruce's head then turned away from him. Joker would be there soon.


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

Jonathan debated bringing a bag with him. Although it would be wonderful to have a change of a clothes or a toothbrush, he wondered if he would even reach the point where he would need them. Besides- if he had to make a quick getaway, he would not want the extra baggage.

He neatened the bed, carefully folding and crimping the blankets. He stacked Bruce's books on the bedside table. He thought of returning them to their proper shelves, but then he risked seeing the man. Instead he left the pile alone.

Deep breaths kept him calm as he walked around the room, eying the boxes of clothing he had never unpacked. The closet was empty, waiting for the boxes to spill into them. It was too late now- the boxes would remain until Bruce went through and disposed of them.

Everything Jonathan owned or was, right there in those boxes waiting to be thrown away.

Jonathan Crane shook his head and looked to the window as a noise drew his attention. A small red-clad hand was pushing it open forcefully, demanding entrance. Jonathan went over and looked out to the dimming light as he invited in Harley. He took her hand, helping her crawl through.

"Thanks." She gave him a happy, carefree smile.

Jonathan stepped back, standing with his arms crossed at the foot of his bed. Harley turned and helped Joker clamber into the room . She looked back to Jonathan with a slightly less carefree grin.

"Let's hurry." Jonathan motioned towards the window.

"Anything you want." Joker smirked.

Jonathan looked to the window and wondered just how he was going to climb down. He remembered Alfred's comment on the difficulty of clambering over the wall- how was Jonathan possibly supposed to do just that.

He turned to ask Joker but the latter was already reaching out to grab onto Jonathan, forcing him directly behind himself.

"Grab on."

Jonathan's face wrinkled in disgust as he climbed onto Joker's back. Joker climbed out the window and began his descent. Harley followed swiftly. When Joker's feet met the ground he dropped Jonathan to the grass. Harley reached for Jonathan's hand expectantly. Jonathan tentatively reached out a hand only to feel Joker's fingers on his throat.

"It would be better if you, ah, slept on the way."

Harley gripped Jonathan's hands, keeping him from resisting. Jonathan struggled to pull in air but could not-he began to panic as the yard of Wayne Manor dimmed around him.

"You're early, Bats!"

Jonathan fell to the ground heavily. Blank noise surrounded him; he could hear Joker's nasally voice versus the angered growl of the Bat, simple sounds and pitches, nothing more. Then soft hands gripped him and he heard Harley's soft, high voice.

"Come on." She said gently beside his ear. "Let's go."

Harley wrapped her arms around him carefully, pulling him upright. Jonathan stood slowly, blinking as everything slowly came into view. Joker motioned to Harley and she hurried Jonathan along the grass. Jonathan spied a nondescript, battered vehicle and guessed it as their destination.

Then a strong arm pushed Harley away from him. Her grip tightened, a vise, then broke, red and black hands desperately trying to grab onto Jonathan she fell to the grass feet away from them. She crumpled on the ground, disoriented. Jonathan looked to the Bat as the latter pulled him up and into his arms effortlessly. Jonathan began to protest the bridal-style grip.

"Put me down!" Jonathan demanded. Then, softer, "Let me go with them."

Batman looked down at Jonathan. "What?"

"If I keep hiding from them, they'll hurt Bruce." Jonathan struggled to free himself, but the Bat continued to hold him tightly.

"What does he have to do with any of this?" The Bat growled.

"Joker and Harley have both seen us together." Jonathan sounded like the parent speaking to a child that  _just did not understand_  when it was so incredibly obvious they were wrong. "What if they go after Bruce to get to me?"

"Why would you care about your jailor?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Jonathan bit out.

"You will stay with me if you don't want to stay with him-"

"How is that going to stop them?" Jonathan demanded, trying again to wrench himself from Batman's grip.

Batman was silent.

Jonathan said quietly. "Just let me go with them."

"I can't do that." Batman shook his head.

Jonathan pushed Batman insistently. "Bruce is going to be killed because of you!"

"Since when do you care?"

"Since..." Jonathan could not think of a time, a date, a place, only of how warm he felt when the older man was nearby.

Batman thought only a moment before he pushed Jonathan to the ground, leaving the Doctor sprawled in the grass as he ran towards where Joker was searching his pocket. Jonathan watched as Batman drew a Batarang, watched as Harley sat up and held onto her head with one hand, desperately standing and grabbing onto the Batarang with the other.

Later, Jonathan would not be able to say exactly what happened. He watched as Batman fought with Harley and Joker, lack swirling around red and purple. Jonathan could not pinpoint exactly when Harley fell to the ground, body limp and unconscious and he felt waves of guilt for having watched her fall to Joker in Arkham, for not having been able to do a thing. He knew Joker fell second, only after drawing a blade across the Bat. Crimson flowed from the wound decorating his arm. He would always remember the scream of sirens and the way Batman ran to him, gathering him in his arms and rushing back up to the manor. The last thing Jonathan Crane needed was to be seen at a site with Harley, Joker, and Batman.

Jonathan was placed on his feet at the door to Wayne Manor. "I have business to take care of." Batman growled. "Stay inside."

"I plan on it." Jonathan pushed open the door then stopped a moment. "Thank you."

But Batman was already gone.

"Sir? Master Crane, is that you?"

Jonathan stepped inside and closed the door. "It's me, Alfred."

Alfred stepped into the room. "I saw the clowns outside, sir,and called the police. Was that your doing?"

Jonathan hesitated. "In a way."

"Perhaps, sir, it is not safe for you to be near Master Wayne."

"It...it was for Bruce, Alfred." Jonathan said quietly.

Alfred looked at him disapprovingly. "You believe drawing madmen to Wayne Manor is-"

"No." Jonathan cut him off. "I was going to go with them so that they wouldn't bother Bruce ever again."

"I understand, sir. Before you go see Master Wayne, I suggest a shower and a change of clothing." Alfred eyed the dirt staining once-clean clothes a fine brown.

"I think you're right." Jonathan nodded.

Jonathan began walking away. Alfred called after him. "And Master Crane?"

"Yes, Alfred?" Jonathan turned his head back.

"Next time, tell Master Wayne."

Jonathan wordlessly walked down the hallway.


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

Jonathan fully expected Bruce to be in his bedroom when he arrived. He had showered and changed, as Alfred had suggested, before making his way to the billionaire's room. He finished buttoning his red shirt as he stepped into the room. He flicked on the light and looked to the bed, confused to see it empty. He could not hear the shower and the bathroom light was off- where could Bruce be?

He sat on the bed and faced the door. No sooner had he sat than Bruce walked into the room.

The first thing Jonathan noticed was the book in Bruce's hand. The second thing he noticed was the light sheen of seat of Bruce's brow.

"Are you done with your personal business?" Bruce smiled gently.

Jonathan stood, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he did so. "I haven't even begun."

Bruce stared at him, perplexed, but then Jonathan stepped up to him, fingers gripping Bruce's shirt collar and pulling the man closer.

_I don't care what happens after tonight. But I almost left him forever without ever loving him._

_I can't risk that again._

Jonathan gave Bruce the sweetest smile the billionaire had ever seen on the man's face. It lit up his entire face, promised so much.

"Would you help me, Bruce?" Jonathan leaned forward and whispered in Bruce's ear.

"Jonathan..." Bruce murmured, hands landing softly on Jonathan's hips.

"Come on." Jonathan whispered, one hand sliding down Bruce's chest.

Bruce looked into blue eyes. "Are you-"

"Yes, Bruce." Jonathan smirked. "I am sure."

Jonathan's eyes slipped closed as Bruce devoured him, lips pressed firmly against lips, tongue demanding entrance. Jonathan whimpered as warmth smothered him, Bruce's arms wrapped impossibly tightly around him.

He did not know they were moving until his knees hit the mattress and Bruce gently helped him sit, never once breaking their contact. Bruce did not dare, terrified that as soon as he did Jonathan would flee. Only once he felt Jonathan's pulse erratically beat did he pull back, pressing feather kisses to Jonathan 's face and throat.

Jonathan's hands were everywhere, sliding over Bruce's shoulders, his chest, his back, trying to feel everything. Bruce encouraged him silently, almost pressing against Jonathan's hands mutely.

Jonathan voiced no complaint when Bruce pulled his lips away temporarily, motioning for Jonathan to slide onto the bed. Bruce leaned against the ornate head board, Jonathan tucked neatly between his legs, smaller hands resting on Bruce's legs.

"Bruce." Jonathan moaned softly in the other man's ear.

"I need you." Bruce confessed. "Now and forever."

"Forever doesn't exist, Bruce." Jonathan whispered, not cruelly.

Bruce looked him solidly in the eye. "We will make forever."

Jonathan smiled. He could accept that.

He started slightly as Bruce's hand slid over the front of his pants, fingers brushing one by one. Jonathan murmured wordless noises in content. He stared at Bruce's content face, not even beginning to try and analyze the lazy smile twisting thin lips. He simply accepted it.

A noise escaped his mouth as fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants. He did not resist as Bruce's questing hand snuck beneath his boxers, soft fingers delicately sliding against him.

Jonathan gripped onto Bruce's sheets tightly, blue eyes closed. He simply  _felt._ He spoke nothing as Bruce gently removed his hand, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Jonathan's pants. He slowly pulled them away from Jonathan's warm skin. He watched as Jonathan swallowed thickly, throat rising for only a moment. Jonathan raised his hips wordlessly, permission granted.

Bruce took his time but wasted none, tenderly sliding away Jonathan's pants. Blue eyes opened to look over Bruce's open face, reading every tender thought and emotion on the billionaire's flesh.

"Come on, Bruce." Jonathan murmured.

But Bruce shook his head. "Give me time."

_How much time do we have?_ Bruce wondered as he slowly undid each button on Jonathan's pristine shirt.  _How long after this will you stay before you run from me?_

Jonathan drew his hands through red sleeves, watching as Bruce set the fabric on the floor. He looked back to Bruce's face as the latter's surprisingly warm hands rested on his shoulders, slowly sliding down his arms. Jonathan reached out almost tentatively gripped the hem of the plain white shirt Bruce wore. Bruce gently gripped Jonathan's hands and raised them to his mouth, kissing each one in turn.

_Not yet. I can't let you see yet._

Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed. "Bruce..."

"It's okay." Bruce murmured, kissing Jonathan's hand again.

"Let me..." Jonathan left off.

"I will." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan sat up straight in alarm as Bruce stood from the bed and made his way to the door. He felt an unwanted, sick sense of relief when Bruce locked the door and looked back to Jonathan.

"Switch on the lamp."

Jonathan did as bidden, Bruce turning off the light at the same time. Jonathan began to wonder about the practicalities of the lamp- it gave off little light, certainly not enough to ready by. He could barely see Bruce as the man settled on the bed, wordlessly pressing Jonathan down to the mattress.

The younger man again reached for the hem of Bruce's shirt. This time Bruce let him tug on it, pulling it up to Bruce's throat. Jonathan silently waited for Bruce to slip his arms through. After a moment, Bruce did. Jonathan threw the fabric aside and tried to look at the flesh revealed.

It proved hard, in the dark, and even harder when Bruce's fingers stole the glasses from his face and set them on the side table. Jonathan hesitated, laying still against the mattress. But then Bruce's fingers slid across his flesh, reassuring the younger. Jonathan relaxed into the blankets, eyes open but unseeing. Bruce, a blur above him, leaned in close to press butterfly kisses against his skin.

"Bruce." Jonathan whispered."Please."

_Since you asked so nicely._

One thumb hooked under the waistband of Jonathan's boxers and pulled. He carefully pulled it up and over the man's growing erection, Jonathan raising his hips wantonly. Bruce complied, throwing the cloth aside and resting one hand over Jonathan's need.

Jonathan murmured nothings, wordless syllables leaving his lips in a stream. He felt rather than saw as Bruce stripped to nothing, the man leaning to the side table and pulling open a drawer. Jonathan listened as Bruce ruffled through before he heard the door shut and felt Bruce return to him.

_No matter what happens...we'll have had tonight._ The thought pleased Jonathan.

"Mm."

Jonathan started as Bruce's hands suddenly began to draw apart his legs. He resisted only a moment before making room for the older male. Bruce slid in between his legs, one fingertip tracing circles on Jonathan's stomach.

"Bruce!"

Jonathan nearly sat up as one cold fingertip traced around the entrance to his body, legs snapping together, stopped by the strong form between them. Bruce took his finger away.

"Jonathan?"

Jonathan heard the worry and almost hurt in Bruce's voice. He spoke one word. "Cold."

"Sorry."

Jonathan took a breath and listened as Bruce exhaled again and again. Then Bruce was back, now-warm fingertip slick, waiting for Jonathan's permission. Jonathan breathed deeply, erratic breaths pulling into his lungs.

"Go ahead, Bruce."

Bruce did not wait again. Jonathan's fingers entwined in the blankets as Bruce tenderly prepared him. Fingers slid in together, slowly and gently opening Jonathan. He felt very nearly like a sacrifice, opened for any who wanted him. A stray thought entered his head that Bruce was not too bad of a person to want him.

All thoughts slipped away as Bruce's hand disappeared, replaced by something much larger and warmer.

"Jonathan?" Bruce murmured once more.

In response, Jonathan spread his legs and raised his hips. He pressed against Bruce, waiting for the man to take him.

_Oh god... Bruce..._ Jonathan wished he could see.

Teeth grit together and eyes clenched shut and fingers curled as Bruce entered him. Jonathan bit back his moan of pain, wishing Bruce had no chosen this moment to become impatient, that he had not pushed him, that-

" _Jonathan."_ Bruce growled in Jonathan's ear as he thrust fully into him.

Ice ran down Jonathan's spine and froze his heart. He knew that voice. Dear lord, he knew that voice.

"Bat Man..." Jonathan whispered to himself. He barely registered as Bruce stopped moving.

_I'm being fucked by the Bat Man._

Jonathan reached up, one check left in place. Fingers finally touched Bruce's skin. He felt the tell-tale roughness of scar tissue spotting Bruce's chest before he reached to lightly touch Bruce's arm. Fresh stitches told him all he needed to know.

Jonathan wildly thrashed beneath Bruce, hands uselessly pushing against his chest. Bruce gripped Jonathan's hands, pressing them to the mattress.

"Jonathan." Bruce said softly. "It's just me."

"No, get off of me! Let me go!" Jonathan screamed.  _I won't do this with the Bat!_

"It's me, Jonathan!" Bruce pressed his lips to Jonathan's forehead.

Jonathan trembled. "You're the Bat." he whispered.

"I'm just Bruce Wayne." Bruce kissed Jonathan's ear. "It's just me." he repeated.

Fingers roved over Bruce's chest and the scars he said were from polo, spelunking, any other number of sports and activities billionaires engaged in. Every time the tabloids managed to find a picture of him showing skin, he had his excuses and his reasons. Every woman he slept with told the same story- all about all the sports Bruce Wayne engaged in, the stories he told about them.

Jonathan struggled to see and could just make out what looked to be dappling of old burn marks, never able to quite heal.

_I did that._

Jonathan reached up, hands slowly framing Bruce's jaw with his hands. "The Bat Man." he murmured.

"This is me, Jonathan." Bruce stared into blue eyes.

"No wonder he wanted me to stay here so very badly." Jonathan said emotionlessly. "Did you plan this?"

"No." Bruce insisted honestly.

Jonathan muttered. "It must be easy to control threats when they are in your bed."

Bruce smiled sadly. "That's not it."

"Stop." Jonathan pleaded. "Let me go."

"Look at me." Bruce commanded.

Jonathan blindly looked up to Bruce's face, staring at the pale blur above him. Bruce gently rested his fingers on Jonathan's cheek. The smaller man lay perfectly still as Bruce slid the last few inches into him, fully sheathed and pressed against Jonathan. Blue eyes winced shut but quickly opened.

"Do I look like Batman?" Bruce murmured. "I'm just Bruce."

"You can be anyone in the dark." Jonathan whispered. They lay silent a moment. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Jonathan's voice broke.

"How could I?" Bruce whispered.

Jonathan stared intently at Bruce's guilty face. "I've told you everything." he accused.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan." Bruce pressed feather kisses over Jonathan's throat.

"You sprayed me with me own toxin, tore from me mt position and my reputation, threw me in with the dogs that once were my patients..." Jonathan whispered brokenly. "And now you take me to bed."

Bruce chucked humorlessly and took ahold of Jonathan's right hand. He pressed it to the mottled scarring on his chest. "I didn't exactly do this to myself, you know."

Jonathan shrugged. "You broke into my apartment."

"So we both had our reasons." Bruce kissed Jonathan's cheek.

Jonathan remained silent a moment.

"You better be open with me." Jonathan warned. "About everything, Bruce."

"Shall I check out when I leave at night?" Bruce smiled.

"Yes."

One eyebrow rose. "Alright."

Jonathan was silent once more.  _He won't accept no now. And...and this is still Bruce._

_Tonight, just in case anything happened. Well, something happened._

Jonathan took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Bruce. "C'mon, Bruce." he whispered.

"Jonathan?"

"Don't bore me now." Jonathan murmured in Bruce's ear.

Bruce grinned, hiding his confusion as he began to pound into the smaller man. Jonathan voiced no complaints, gripping Bruce's shoulders and moaning his pleasure. Bruce wrapped one hand around Jonathan's erection, slowly stroking in contrast to the fast pace his hips set. Jonathan appreciated the difference,

Soon Bruce sat back, white splatted over their stomachs, his own warmth left hidden in Jonathan's body. Neither remembered nor cared who cried out first, whose tongue shaped the other's name in ecstasy.

Jonathan allowed Bruce to pull him close, the billionaire grabbing the top blanket and gently cleaning both their bellies. He threw the blanket to the side before drawing Jonathan into his arms. Jonathan lay in Bruce's arms, eyes wide open.

"Jonathan?" Bruce began softly.

"In the morning, Bruce." Jonathan whispered. "In the morning."

"..If that's what you want."

He listened as Bruce breathed, the billionaire holding Jonathan tight in his arms.

Jonathan refused to sleep, instead staring into the dimly-lit room. He tried to reach the lamp; failed. He lay back and waited for Bruce to fall asleep.


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

Jonathan waited until Bruce's breathing slowed in slumber before carefully sliding away from the man. He gently rested his feet on the floor, standing slowly and carefully. Jonathan reached for his glasses, slipping them on quickly. He glanced at Bruce before searching the floor. He picked up a piece of fabric only to realize it was Bruce's shirt. He set it down and continued his search.

Soon he was in boxers and his shirt. "Jonathan?"

He froze and looked to Bruce. The man was sitting up, already instantly awake. Jonathan guessed Bruce had to be constantly aware. It went with the job.

"Why're you up? What's wrong?" Bruce asked worriedly, motioning to stand.

"I just need a drink." Jonathan said smoothly.

Jonathan quickly went to the side of the bed, leaning over slightly to give Bruce a small smile. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Alright." Bruce hesitated a moment before leaning up to press a small kiss to Jonathan's warm flesh.

Jonathan found his shirt and slipped it on. He walked out the door and did not look back.

He went directly to his room. On went the light- then he was looking around, frowning. He looked at the boxes he never unpacked- and never would.

Soon he was searching through them, looking for the briefcase he knew he still owned. As soon as he found it he began folding a spare shirt, forcing the fabric as small as he could get it. This he stuffed into one corner before continuing. He fit in a pair of pants and boxers before heading into the bathroom.

He stared at the fluffy towels he had so quickly become accustomed to, then the one brought from his apartment. It was tucked away, the ratty fabric barely recognizable as a towel.

_Nothing of his._

This he grabbed before taking his toothbrush. Both went in with his clothes.

He closed the case before walking to the window. He pushed it open and looked straight down at the wall. It was not as though it would be his first time traversing the wall, it would be his first time on his own.

Jonathan winced as he dropped the case out the window and into the soft grass. He took a deep breath and climbed out after it.

He made it three yards down before his hand slipped, fingers grabbing slick stone. He bit back a yelp of surprise as he fell to the ground.

He lay still for a moment, forcing down pained whimpers. One hand reached for the case, grabbing onto it gratefully. Then he was back on his feet, ignoring the throbbing shaking his entire body. Without one glance back to Wayne Manor, he began to limp away.


	39. Chapter Thirty Eight

Gotham had never seemed so large than when Jonathan crossed it in the dark. It took longer when on the ground and on foot than when the Bat flew through the air. Twice he stopped for directions. The third time, he bought a map with the change he found in his case.

He found himself in his old apartment in the early morning. He let himself in gratefully, not pausing even a moment to rest. He instantly went into the bathroom and began peeling up floor tiles.

Jonathan Crane had never trusted anyone else with the little money he had. Now he was more grateful for that than ever as he pulled the plastic bag from the very framework of the building. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket and grabbed his case before leaving.

He found a small, run-down hotel many blocks away from his previous one. He stepped into what almost passed as an entryway and looked to the bored-looking greeter sitting behind a tiny counter.

"I need a room." He walked up and announced quietly.

She looked over him lazily. "Sure. How long?"

"One day."

"Thirty dollars." She reached beneath the counter for a key.

Jonathan quickly set the bills on the counter. "Name?" She asked, fingers poised over the keyboard beside her.

_She doesn't recognize me._ "Jack Harris."

She handed him the key. "Third floor. Room six."

He walked away without a word.

The key hardly worked. He had to force the door open and nearly choked on the dust in the room. He immediately opened the window after shutting and locking the door. He set the case on the bed before venturing into the bathroom. He cringed when he saw the dreadful conditions.

_One day. Then I move on._

One day seemed to be a very long time. He relieved himself in the bathroom before going out and sitting on the stained bed. He looked out the window into Gotham.

_I'll need a job. Something small. A new apartment, living essentials..._

_I have to start over,_

Jonathan reached into his pocket and pulled out his savings. He counted out close to six hundred dollars. A grim smile crossed his face as he packed it into his briefcase.

_It's a start. I can eat._

He wanted to go out into Gotham and find a small cafe or something similar as hunger truly set in. Now that he was no longer concentrating on returning to a familiar area he remembered everything his body had been trying to tell him all night.

His feet hurt from walking and his body ached from the fall. His stomach was empty and his mind exhausted.

Jonathan collapsed back onto the grimy mattress and closed his eyes. He did not have the strength to move his glasses but fell asleep as he was.

The sun had moved across the sky by the day he awoke. He sat up uncomfortably, wishing he had at least lain properly before drifting into sleep. He took off his glasses and slid his hand down his face before returning them to their proper position.

_What do I do now?_

Jonathan's growling stomach answered that one for him. He stood and smoothed down his clothing. Several bills form his case relocated to his pocket before he headed out the door, fingering the new key in his other pocket.

The nearest grocery store was six blocks away. He walked to it swiftly, glad he had passed it that morning.

It was inexpensive and not crowded. Jonathan kept his head down, choosing a few items silently. He bought them from a quiet cashier. The only words shared were "Twenty-four dollars and sixty cents" and "Thank you. Have a good day."

Then he was back out on the street, three bags in one hand. He eyed the hotel building as he approached, observing it more critically in the light. It was most definitely the worst building in which he had ever stayed. For a moment he sorely missed his old apartment.

He made his way up the steps and let himself into his room. He lay the bags on the dresser and sat once more on the bed. He propped his case beside him, opening it slowly. He drew out the meager possessions he had managed to fit, taking the towel in one hand to take it to the bathroom.

He hung it on the metal bar protruding from one wall with distaste.

Jonathan took a deep breath. He needed to see a newspaper and look for work ads. He was in a decrepit part of Gotham- surely he could find some job that would ask no questions.

First he had to find a newspaper. He closed his case and headed back out into Gotham City.


	40. Chapter Thirty Nine

Two weeks later, and Jonathan was only half-contented. He moved from the decrepit hotel to an apartment building close by. As it turned out, the grocery store had been glad to have another employee. He worked close to every day, spending little and saving what he could.

He hated the new apartment and the new job, but at least he had them.

Jonathan Crane tried to never think about Bruce Wayne.

It was simple. Two weeks without a word from Wayne or even Batman. He ignored the tabloids, not wanting to see women dangling over the billionaire.

Then it fell apart.

"Hey, did you see this?"

Jonathan looked over to the other employee. Jonathan set down the cans he had been stacking on the shelves as his companion hurried over, face lit up in- joy? Worry? Jonathan could not tell.

"What?" he asked, feigning the tiniest amount of interest.

"The Joker and his girlfriend broke out of Arkham."

Jonathan stiffened. "What?" He repeated.

The employee nodded. He held out a newspaper for Jonathan to take. "Look! These came out this morning..."

Jonathan took the paper and frowned. The headline read: The Joker at Large Again! Under this was a photo of Arkham, the administrator standing out front. Jonathan felt a swift pang of hatred for the man.

"Dex, do you mind covering for me?" Jonathan asked quietly.

"What's wrong?" Dex asked in concern.

Jonathan stared at the paper. "I need to take care of something."

Dex reached out and placed a hand on Jonathan's arm. "Are you okay?"

Jonathan nodded stiffly and shook off Dex's hand. "I'm fine."

Jonathan took the paper and rushed from the grocery store. He impatiently made his way down the street, rushing to his apartment.

_Joker's back. It was for nothing. Bruce..._

_Damn Bruce._

Jonathan let himself into his apartment.  _Why did I come here?_ He had no reason to return to his apartment, no reason to run from the grocer.

_How do I fight Joker?_

He itched for his toxin. The feeling that had left for weeks returned, that anger against the clowns.

_Calm down._

Jonathan looked around his apartment. Did Joker already know his location? There was no doubt in his mind that Joker and Harley would be after him again.

_And this time I won't have-_

_No._

Jonathan shook his head. He did not need Bruce or the Bat. He would handle Joker on his own.

He had to.

Jonathan sat on his bed, slightly more at ease in personal surroundings than he had been in the foul atmosphere of his work. He looked at the paper and his heart fell further.

_They've been out for three days?_

_Why is it only in the paper now? Who knows what they could have done in that time!_

Jonathan frowned. News such as this should be out on time, not three days late. He looked to the paper date and cocked his head.

_Three days old._

_Dex said they arrived today._

Could Joker have delayed them somehow? Jonathan did not doubt it possible.

_Now what do I do?_

Jonathan took a deep breath. If only he had...

_No. I will handle this._

Jonathan's head shot up as a knock came on his door. He sit in silence until a voice called.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

Dex.

Jonathan called out. "Yes,Dex. Shouldn't you be working?"

"So should you."

_I have a reason to leave._

Dex continued. "Are you alright? You ran out there pretty fast..."

Jonathan debated standing and opening the door rather than speak to Dex through the wood but then chose not to stand.

"Will you come back?" Dex asked uncertainly.

_Why does it matter to you?_ "I don't know."

"I hope you do." Dex called hopefully.

Jonathan stared at the door silently. He did not need a tag-a-long. In a month or so he would pack up again ad relocate. He had to keep moving- especially now.

_Should I head out earlier?_

"Hey." Dex called again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

_Go back to work._ "No."

"Are you sure?" Dex asked in worry.

"I'm sure." Jonathan said quietly.

"What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch-"

"I'm sure!" Jonathan called. "Just cover for me at work."

"Of course!" Dex's muffled curse was barely visible through the door. "Gotta go! Come back, man, okay?"

Jonathan did not reply. He assumed Dex left then, as silence finally filled the room. He sighed and looked around the small area.

_Joker is going to ruin everything again._

Jonathan had been so content. He had a job with people he could stand- the manager, Cook... he had kept out of the public's discerning eye, possessed a half-way decent apartment, and had never dealt with-

_But that doesn't matter any more._

Jonathan knew he would have to move soon. Would he be able to continue working at the grocer's? Maybe.

_Although Dex appears to be growing attached. I cannot let that happen. It may be time I moved on._

For not the first time in those two weeks since leaving Br- since leaving, he sorely missed his position as Administrator of Arkham. There he was secure, was able to pursue anything. He felt sorely stunted now.

He was going to have to move. One more night in this apartment, then he was gone.


	41. Chapter Forty

Jonathan was not surprised when he woke up to satisfied laughs and curious chuckles. He reached for his meager nightstand, slipping his glasses onto his face with one hand as he reached for the cheap lamp, fighting the switch to shed light into the room.

"Hello, Scaredy-Crow."

"Joker." Jonathan threw back the covers and stood.

"It's about  _time_." Joker grumbled.

Harley shook her head with a smile. "We thought you were never gonna wake up!"

"How long have you been there?" Jonathan asked, more to buy a moment than anything."

Harley and Joker glanced to each other. "Thirty minutes?" Harley hazarded.

Jonathan was surprised. He was rarely so deep a sleeper. He must have been exhausted.

_Makes sense._

"And now that I'm awake?" Jonathan asked.

"Now you can finally come with us!" Harley said cheerfully. "No Bat in the way this time."

_Did they do something to Bruce?_

The thought was unbidden. Jonathan wished it had never arrived as soon as it passed through his head, but he could not change the past.

Joker sat heavily on the bed. "And without you under the, uh,  _watchful_ eye of Wayne..."

_Wayne._

Joker shook his head. "I expected better of you, Scarecrow, I  _did."_

Harley nodded her agreement. She sat next to Joker, both clowns facing Jonathan, mere feet separating them.

" _Bruce Wayne's_ squeeze?" One eyebrow rose. Joker eyed him.

Jonathan took a deep breath. He thought he heard something- was he imagining it? A slight clatter, the  _swish_ of fabric.

Joker looked at him as if expecting an answer.

"No." Jonathan shook his head.

"Oh?" Harley cocked her head.

"No," Jonathan took a calming gulp of cool air, but it was not nearly enough to cool him down as he spoke next. "I'm the Bat Man's squeeze."

Joker was lunging for him, Harley at his side. Jonathan quickly stepped away, directed towards the door. He bit back a pained shout as he was slammed into the wall. Joker pressed him to the wall, knife at his throat.

"It makes me very...  _sad_ to hear that." Joker muttered lowly.

Jonathan said calmly. "Let me go."

"I miss your struggles." Joker murmured darkly.

_How can this bother me when I just admitted..._

Jonathan tried to shake his head but only succeeded in pressing his flesh against Joker's blade. "Get off." Jonathan said quietly.

Harley crept forward slowly, painted mouth in a delicate frown. "You shouldn't have told Mistah J that." she murmured, almost sadly.

"Why do you need me, anyway?" Jonathan asked Joker, staring at the white face.

"I need an... assistant." Joker mused.

"What?"

"I need a toxin." Joker explained as if to a slow child. "I need to make Batsy smile. He's  _so serious."_

Jonathan let out a single hoarse chuckle. "I won't help you with that."

Joker's face was steel. Harley physically drooped, sadness obviously written in her features. Jonathan looked to her for answers.

"Sorry, Jonny." Harley murmured.

Jonathan felt the exact moment Joker's blade sliced into his flesh, as delicate skin parted and made way for crimson. Jonathan could not hold back a scream, his throat torn and raw.

"Not this time, Joker."

_Bruce._

Jonathan slipped down the wall, Joker's presence gone. "Bats?"

Jonathan looked up, but the Bat Man was not looking at him. The vigilante's attention was fully on Joker. Harley, however, knelt at Jonathan's side. Small hands pressed against the bleeding mouth on his throat, lips twisted in a worried frown.

"Leave him alone." Batman rasped.

Joker glanced down to Harley and Jonathan before lunging for Batman.  _"Why so serious?"_

"C'mere, Jonny." Harley whispered. "Hold on."

He struggled to pull in air, ashamed when tears of agony spilled down his cheeks. Harley wiped them away with one hand, her other hand reaching for her own red and black clothing. Jonathan watched as she violently tore at the fabric.

"Mistah J! I need a knife!" She called.

Joker blindly threw one at her, too consumed in his own fight with the Bat. It slid on the floor beside her. Harley desperately reached for it, sliding the blade into black fabric. She tore a large piece, dropping the blade to the floor and pressing the fabric to Jonathan's neck. Jonathan watched the scuffle in the room, longing to call to Bruce, unable to form the words.

"Hold on Jonny." Harley begged. "I'm sorry."

Jonathan looked at her teary eyes. "I didn't know Mistah J was gonna kill you..."

_Kill me?_

He watched Harley's hands disinterestedly, frowning as she began to shake. She looked to his face with sadness before she leaned him against the wall. Jonathan was powerless to do anything as she stood.

"Puddin'!"

Jonathan tried to call her name. Lips parted but nothing sounded. He forced in deep breaths, trying to keep his eyes open. He had to stop Harley-

_From doing what?_

Jonathan never had the chance to answer his own question. His head leaned back against the wall.

Then nothing.


	42. Chapter Forty One

Jonathan was warm. Warmer than he had ever been in this new heatless apartment. He could not justify paying for heat, not when it was for simple comfort. But now he was nearly uncomfortably warm.

Blue eyes blinked open to see the ceiling of his apartment. He went to move, couldn't.

"Shh. Don't move."

Jonathan could barely see. One arm went to find his glasses, but that gentle voice. "I'll get them for you."

Then his glasses were on his face. He blinked once, then again as the face came into view. He would have said it was Batman had the figure not had Bruce's face.

_Oh, right._

Jonathan looked over the incredibly guilty face with some twisted sort of satisfaction. It all disappeared when the man said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

It did not register at first. Jonathan glanced down himself as the Bat reached for him. Jonathan saw a swath of black coating him. As Batman picked it up, he saw it for what it was- the Bat's cloak.

Bruce clipped on the cloak and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Jonathan cried.

Bruce turned his head. "Yes?"

Jonathan swallowed thickly. "Bruce." His voice broke. Jonathan put it down to the no-longer weeping slash on his throat.

"What?" Bruce's voice was sharper than intended.

Jonathan sat up slowly, trying to bite back whimpers of pain. He must have failed, for Bruce was at his side, voice murmuring nothings as he helped Jonathan sit. Jonathan leaned against the wall behind him, Bruce fixing the pillows behind his back.

"Crane..." Bruce murmured.

"Back to Crane, are we?" Jonathan whispered.

"You left." Anger slipped into Bruce's voice.

"You lied." Jonathan shot back quietly.

"No, I just never told you."

Jonathan mumbled. "That's just as bad."

"You think I could have told you?" Bruce crossed his arms.

"Yes." Jonathan lied.

Bruce stared at him solidly. Jonathan cracked. "No."

Bruce uncrossed his arms and sat on the bed. Jonathan kept his gaze steady, watching Bruce's face closely. Bruce leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to Jonathan's forehead.

_I didn't realize I was so lonely before you._

"Me neither." Bruce murmured.

_I said that aloud?_

Bruce hid his emotions as he looked over Jonathan's face. "I heard what you said to Joker."

Jonathan gaped. "You were here? Why didn't you..." The death of his words said it all. He did not even have to motion to the bandages Bruce himself had wrapped around Jonathan's throat as he slept.

"I didn't expect him to do that." Bruce said miserably. "I thought I had a moment."

Jonathan nodded, hurt. But then Bruce was holding him in strong arms. Kevlar was hardly comfortable to press against, but Jonathan voiced no complaints. He felt as Bruce pressed feather kisses over his head.

"Come back." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan swallowed and murmured. "How could I not?"

_I was so hurt when he didn't tell me... but I missed him too much to stay away._

Bruce smiled broadly.  _Wait until he sees._

_I won't let him leave again._

Jonathan had no protest as Bruce gripped the back of his head and forced their lips together. Bruce forcefully nudged his tongue against Jonathan's lips. Jonathan invited the man in. Bruce took it gleefully, immediately following through with his wish.

When Bruce pulled away, he rested his forehead against Jonathan's. Jonathan panted softly, short little breaths wafting over Bruce's flesh.

"We should go. Alfred may be able to help you better than I can." Bruce murmured.

Jonathan nodded and was struck by how very painful that simple movement had become. He smiled at the familiarity of the position as the Bat-Bruce-lifted him in his arms.

Jonathan buried his face in black Kevlar and held on tight.


	43. Chapter Forty Two

Jonathan blinked awake.  _When did I fall asleep?_

He looked around the lush room, almost expectantly. He still wore his glasses.  _Why would I leave them on?_ That was when black entered his vision and he momentarily froze. It looked like the Bat. But then he saw Bruce's face and relaxed.

_How many times will I let myself be surprised by this?_

To be fair, he rationalized, today was the first time he had ever seen Bruce in his costume. He looked it over appraisingly, never having had the chance to properly check it out in his previous encounters with the Bat Man. He noted all the little chinks in the armor, all the separations where it would have been all-too easy to jab and slice and-

_At least Joker never saw them._

"How's your head?" Bruce asked softly.

"Pounding." And as soon as he thought about it, it was true. A forceful throb seemed to shake his entire head.

"Alfred, he's awake." Bruce said as he walked out the door.

Jonathan looked around the unfamiliar room. He appreciated the ornate fireplace set into one wall, the overly lush carpet coating the floor.  _If this is his personal sick ward... it's a wonder people don't come and stay sick._

Alfred walked in, tray in hands. "How are you, Master Crane?"

"Better." Jonathan murmured as he saw the tiny pills on Alfred's silver tray.

Alfred wordlessly helped Jonathan sit up before handing him the medicine and a glass of water. He took them gratefully but winced as he swallowed. Skin stretched and seemed to part. One hand instinctively flew to his throat.

He fingered perfect bandages and looked to Alfred. "I did my best, sir."

"Thank you." Jonathan smiled genuinely.

Alfred returned it with a smile of his own and took the glass from Jonathan. He set it aside before directing his full attention to Jonathan.

"Don't tell Master Bruce I said this..." Alfred seemed to hesitate before making up his mind. "But he was  _incredibly_ bloody upset when he carried you in here."

Jonathan looked straight at Alfred. "I won't."

"He missed you, sir." Alfred said pointedly.

"I missed him too." Jonathan admitted quietly.  _But I couldn't think properly here. Bruce weeds his way into my thoughts, into my head. That's why I couldn't- can't!- stay here._

"I hope you will stay with us, sir." Alfred said politely.

Jonathan went to take a breath and tell Alfred that there was no way he could stay-

"Especially after all the work Master Wayne did. He refused to allow me to help." Alfred sounded almost miffed.

Now Jonathan was simply curious. What would Bruce do that he refused to let Alfred so instead? And for him?

"You'll see soon enough, Master Crane." Alfred said when it appeared Jonathan was about to speak.

"Where's Bruce?" Jonathan asked softly.

"He was afraid you would not want to see Batman and Bruce together." Alfred explained patiently. "He is changing."

Jonathan nodded. He looked around the room once more before he heard approaching footsteps. He immediately looked to the door.

A few moments later, Bruce entered the room. Jonathan glanced over the black sweats and white long-sleeved t-shirt.

"Hey." Bruce stopped a few feet from the bed.

_He lied to me._ Jonathan stared at the openly guilty face.  _And he would do it all over the same way._

_But it's Bruce._

"Come here." Jonathan said in a small voice.

_Nothing was the same. Never will be._

_When did I start living in the past so such?_

Bruce stepped to Jonathan's side swiftly. Alfred took a tactful leave, closing the door behind himself.

Jonathan reached until his hands framed Bruce's face. He pulled the man down and pressed his lips against Bruce's.

_Since I had a reason to._

Strong hands gripped his shoulders. Jonathan practically melted into Bruce's hands, unresisting as Bruce pulled him closer and closer-

"Ow." Jonathan instinctively jerked back, one hand at his throat.

"Are you okay?" A hand gripped Jonathan's own, the other tracing a tender line along the bandages at Jonathan's neck.

"Fine." Jonathan murmured.

Bruce pressed a kiss to Jonathan's forehead. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jonathan insisted, ignoring the throbbing in his throat. Eating was going to be painful.

Bruce stood almost uncomfortably for a moment. Jonathan looked over his face and said frankly. "You want to ask me something."

"Now might not be the best time." Bruce shook his head.

"Go ahead." Jonathan said in a silken voice.

Bruce hesitated and Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Come on."

"Did you invite Joker in?" Bruce asked bluntly. "I know he was the waiter when we went out to eat."

"You knew and did nothing?" Jonathan's eyebrows rose.

"Wouldn't that have been suspicious? Bruce Wayne recognizing Joker even without his paint?" Bruce asked in reply.

"I suppose so." Jonathan mused before saying. "Yes. I knew he was coming for me."

"Why did you decide to go?" Bruce asked softly.

Jonathan swallowed- and winced- before murmuring. "I couldn't let him near you."

It sounded ridiculous now, keeping Joker from Bruce when Bruce was the Batman. Jonathan looked over Bruce's blank face.

_There he goes again, blocking everything out._

Jonathan wondered if that would recur constantly, if that was what a relationship with Bruce Wayne- the real Bruce Wayne, not the one if the tabloids- would be like. Constantly pushed out, constantly blocked from half of his life, his personality... how many people would he willingly open up to other than Alfred?

He frowned.  _He didn't even open up to me when he pursued me._

_Why would he now?_

Bruce frowned when Jonathan turned the back of his head to him. "Jonathan?"

"You killed the Scarecrow." Jonathan said absently.

"What?" Bruce asked quietly.

Jonathan looked back to him. "Scarecrow. I haven't felt him since you first entered the shop."

Bruce stared as Jonathan muttered. "I never even thought about it. I was too busy thinking about..."  _you "..._ someone else. I didn't even notice when he disappeared." Jonathan's voice became nothing more than a whisper.

Bruce heard every word, even the all-important one that was not said. He sat on the bed beside Jonathan and said quietly. "That's good."

Jonathan looked scandalized. Bruce looked at him. "You felt him, though, didn't you, when you knew I was Batman." Bruce murmured. "That's what drove you to leave."

"You were the Bat and didn't tell me! Why wouldn't I have left!" Jonathan remained scandalized. "And you are glad you killed half of who I was?"

"I didn't kill him." Bruce insisted. "You told Batman- told me- you wanted to make the toxin, didn't you?"

Jonathan nodded.

"Don't you think that's rather Scarecrow-like?" Bruce whispered.

Jonathan only stared at him. "Think about it, Jonathan." Bruce pushed. "That's just the sort of thing I would expect from Scarecrow, not from Doctor Jonathan Crane."

"But..." Jonathan hesistated.

"What?" Bruce prodded gently.

"I don't feel him anymore." Jonathan frowned. "And I never even considered it... I was only thinking about you and the Bat..."

"Feel him?" Bruce asked, interested.

Jonathan nodded. "Not like a separate person feel him, but a... differing in opinion." Jonathan thought a moment. "Like two conflicting ideas coming together in one mind."

"Maybe you haven't had so much to be conflicted over." Bruce suggested.

Jonathan scoffed. "As if this here isn't something to inspire conflicting emotions?"

Bruce began. "Well..."

"Laying in the Bat Man's bed was hardly high on my list of priorities." Jonathan broke in.

"Was?" Bruce caught that.

Jonathan shrugged. "I will have to come to terms with the fact that the Bat is a facet of my Bruce Wayne."

"You shouldn't have run off." Bruce traced a finger lightly along white.

"I had to get my thoughts together. If I hadn't ,it would always have been on my mind." Jonathan shrugged slightly.

"I suppose so." Bruce murmured. "Does that mean you'll stay, now?" he asked slightly louder.

Jonathan looked into deep eyes. "I... if you'll have me. I was tiring of jumping from dank apartment to decrepit apartment."

Bruce said softly. "Your room is still set up."

"Alfred said you did some work?" Jonathan asked curiously.

"You'll see." Bruce suddenly looked unsure of himself. "If you're okay with it, if you're not I'll change-"

"I don't even know what it is, Bruce." Jonathan interrupted.

"Right." Bruce nodded. "Once I'm willing to let you stand we'll go see."

"Once you're willing?" Jonathan scoffed. "I have no say?"

"No." Bruce shook his head. "I'm not going to risk anything happening to you."

"I will stand if I want to, Bruce Wayne." Jonathan said lowly.

"Do you really think so?" Bruce challenged.

When Jonathan went to throw back the covers, Bruce let him. As soon as the man began to stand, however, Bruce tackled him to the bed. Jonathan landed skewed on his back, Bruce perched over top of him. Jonathan tried to buck him off, but this was the Bat Man. Jonathan could not budge him.

"Do you believe me now?" Bruce asked smugly.

Jonathan grumbled. Bruce grinned.

"Later." Bruce promised. "Though if you ask nicely I'll carry you."

"I can wait." Jonathan refused to give Bruce any more satisfaction.

"If you're sure." Bruce shrugged and pressed a kiss to Jonathan's forehead before sitting up.

"Positive." Jonathan said.

Bruce smiled and gave Jonathan another chaste kiss. Jonathan leaned back against the headboard and simply looked Bruce over.

Maybe he really did belong here.


	44. Chapter Forty Three

"Just be careful, sir." Alfred advised as he watched Jonathan slowly stand.

"I will be." Jonathan promised.

Alfred and Bruce had kept him in the room for four days, waiting for him to heal entirely for letting him wander. Jonathan partially understood- he knew that Bruce refused to risk a wound so close to important veins open again. On the other hand, however, he  _hated_ being under control of the very controlling man. And Alfred had done noting to help him.

But now Bruce was on patrol- he had checked in and given Jonathan a soft kiss before heading out. Jonathan had waited very little time before summoning Alfred, telling the man that it was high time the butler let Jonathan out of the room. He had barely been allowed to walk, the only time he was allowed from the bed simply to go to the bathroom. Bruce had even insisted Jonathan bathe, not shower, afraid to let the man  _stand_ , of all things.

To be fair, Jonathan had been quite sore after returning from his apartment. But that was no excuse to keep him bedridden!

Alfred watched as Jonathan made his way out of the room. Jonathan looked around the familiar hallway- if he continued to the right he would eventually reach the library. The left led to the hallway containing both Bruce's and his bedrooms.

He turned left.

Jonathan flipped the light on in his bedroom and frowned. Not a one of his boxes set on the floor. He stepped into the bathroom to see that only unopened products sat around. It looked like the room had been set up for someone, but not planned on use.

He crossed over in Bruce's room instead.

Surprise flit across his face when he looked into the open closet. He recognized some of the clothing in view as his own. Closer inspection showed what yes, they were his. He looked around the room again, noting now the new bookcase in the corner. He walked over and knelt down. His books filled the fine wood.

A small smile twisted his lips.  _Is this what Alfred was talking about?_

Jonathan smirked at the painstakingly-alphabetized books.  _Perhaps not the order in which I would put_ _them, but the thought was worth it._

He peered into the bathroom curiously. Two twin towels hung side-by-side, just waiting for their occupants. He smiled softly and returned to the bedroom.

_I wonder when Bruce will be back..._

The man had never said how long a patrol might take. That made sense, Jonathan supposed. Who knew how many criminals would be out and about any given night?

The thought of it all made Jonathan ache for Scarecrow's mask. He stood still only a moment before making his way to the kitchen. He kept a watch for Alfred, unsure as to just why he felt like a little kid sneaking around his parent's rooms.

He found the potato sack easily. The contained potatoes found themselves dumped unceremoniously on the cupboard shelf for Alfred to deal with later. Jonathan crept back to Bruce's- and his?- bedroom, passing quickly into the bathroom.

As the sack soaked in soap-filled water in the sink, Jonathan began his hunt for scissor and thread. He was positive Alfred would have some.

He found Alfred in one of the many living rooms. Jonathan smiled lightly as he recognized it as the room he had initially found himself in when Batman dropped him off at Wayne Manor. It seemed almost fitting, somehow.

"Alfred?" He asked softly.

"Ah yes, Master Crane?" Alfred looked to him.

"Where can I find... sewing supplies?" Jonathan asked primly.

If Alfred was surprised by the request, he did not show it. He instead explained to Jonathan. "I have a desk set up in the study for such endeavors, sir. Shall I show you?"

_Which study?_ "Yes please."

Jonathan followed Alfred eagerly. When Alfred beckoned him into a room, Jonathan thanked him graciously. Alfred simply nodded and returned down the hall. Jonathan began to search the drawers, satisfied when he pulled out a pair of sharp scissors, a needle, and dark-colored thread.

He stepped down the hallway quickly. He saw the light shining from Bruce's room.  _Did I forget to shut off the light? How careless._

Jonathan stepped closer to hear a running shower.  _Bruce._

Jonathan swallowed and moved into the room quickly. The bathroom door was shut. Jonathan went to the cupboard and tucked the supplies into the pocket of a shirt. He did not want Bruce to know his plan quite yet.

_My sack..._

His heart fell.

Jonathan sat on the bed and waited. He was not going to run from Bruce, nor from any questions the man may possess.

He did not have long to wait before the water stopped. Moments later, the door opened and Bruce stepped out, towel around his waist, body dripping wet.

"I wondered where you were." Bruce smiled. "Alfred said you were up and about."

"I was tired of laying there all day."

Bruce nodded. "I understand."

_Not enough to let me walk around earlier, though._

"I know." Bruce must have read his thoughts in the look on his face, because the man looked sufficiently guilty. "But I couldn't risk anything."

"I know." Jonathan said the words back to him.

Bruce stepped forward and set the dripping burlap on Jonathan's lap. "Anything I should know about?"

"Not yet." Jonathan looked at him levelly.

"Jonathan..." Bruce seemed to think over what he wanted to say next.

"It's nothing... bad." Jonathan thought for a moment.

_Is it so bad if I want to go out at night? It's nothing you don't do._

"Tell me you're not planning on..." Bruce knelt before Jonathan. "Tell me you're not going to create more toxin."

"I'm not." Jonathan ignored the now-cold water soaking his lap. He took a deep breath, hesitating before murmuring. "You think I would risk going back to Arkham?"

"How could I know for sure?" Bruce asked quietly.

Jonathan stared at Bruce firmly. "How could I sneak around in the Bat's home?"

Bruce smiled softly. "I suppose you're right."

Silence crushed them both for minutes, two pairs of eyes staring at slowly-drying burlap. Jonathan took a deep breath but Bruce spoke first, standing and taking the burlap in hand.

"Why?" Bruce asked.

Jonathan's crooked smile incited worry in Bruce's chest. "You have your mask, Bruce. Can you ask me to fully give up mine?"

"You haven't worn one in months." Bruce shook his head. "Why now?"

Jonathan could not tell Bruce it was because he wanted to see the Bat at night, because he did not want to lay in bed and wonder when Bruce would be back- if at all. Wondering if one night Bruce would be found bled out, his face on every news channel, the Batman unmasked!

"Bruce..." Jonathan hesitated.

Bruce stood still, waiting patiently. Jonathan stared up at him, so many words refusing to budge.

"Fine." Bruce said shortly.

As Bruce began walking from the room, Jonathan called after him. "Where are you going?"

"To dispose of this."

"Don't." Jonathan stood.

Bruce stopped and looked back. "Why?"

Jonathan swallowed thickly, for one short moment fearing he was about to choke on his words. "I want to go with you."

Jonathan crossed his arms. "You obviously want me here. If I am to stay, I want to go out in the evening with you. I will not wait here while you patrol."

Bruce rose one eyebrow. "I never thought you were the type to fight crime."

"I never said anything about fighting crime." Jonathan shot back. "I refuse to be left behind is all."

"And what will you do?" Bruce leaned against the doorframe. "Chase me around all night?"

"Why not?" Jonathan asked firmly. "You need someone to watch your back."

"I don't..." Bruce hesitated before saying. "I don't want you in danger."

Jonathan scoffed. "I can handle myself."

"And you seem to think I can't?"

Jonathan stared at him levelly. "I will not wake up to to an empty bed only to see the paper and learn that the Batman was found dead and was, apparently, Bruce Wayne under the cowl the entire time."

"You won't." Bruce promised.

"Let me come." Jonathan insisted.

"No." Bruce said dismissively.

Jonathan coldly walked up to Bruce, gaze firm. "Why not?"

Bruce looked at him calmly. "Do you think I could accomplish anything when I am worried about you all night?"

"I can-"

"I know." Bruce interrupted. "You can take care of yourself. But do you think I'll be thinking so clearly when fighting criminals? When my back is turned and I can't see you?

"It's not a risk I'm willing to take." Bruce finished.

Jonathan seethed silently. He stood perfectly still as Bruce dropped the burlap with a splat on the floor and gripped Jonathan's shoulders. Soft lips pressed against his forehead.

"I can't lose you again." Bruce confessed softly. "When you left...I couldn't think about anything but getting you back. If you didn't want to stay I would have to find a way to convince you. I couldn't say goodbye."

Jonathan swallowed thickly and murmured. "'I...understand."

Blue eyes looked up. "But I still want to come."

"Jonathan, please." Bruce begged. "You're not even fully healed, what if it reopened?"

Jonathan looked over Bruce's overly concerned face. "...Fine. For now."

Relief washed over Bruce. He pulled Jonathan into his embrace.

"I won't let anything happen to you." Bruce whispered into Jonathan's hair.

A first balking at the over-protectiveness Bruce displayed, Jonathan decided he might just be able to deal with it.


	45. Chapter Forty Four

Jonathan moaned softly. He pushed Bruce's head away as the billionaire nipped at his ear again.

"Bruce, stop." Jonathan moaned.

Bruce looked over Jonathan's face. "How can I stop when I know you want this?"

"Because Alfred told me not to strain myself. Do you want me to bleed out, Bruce Wayne?"  _You refuse to let me accompany you yet are all-too eager to pound me into the mattress. You can't pick and choose._

Guilt instantly filled Bruce's face. He returned to his side of the bed and Jonathan continued reading. Jonathan glanced over to see Bruce laying still, staring at the ceiling. He knew the man would soon be heading out into the night, alone, as Jonathan remained in Wayne Manor. Then he would be gone until morning.

By then the bed would seem so cold.

Book discarded, Jonathan rolled onto his side and kissed Bruce's throat. "Or maybe Alfred is wrong." Jonathan murmured against Bruce's flesh. "Maybe it's time for some strain."

Bruce looked down at Jonathan. "I won't take you with me."

"Can I convince you otherwise?" Small kisses, feather-light on Bruce's face.

"No." Bruce shook his head. "I feel better when I know you're safely in my bed."

Jonathan grumpily rolled onto his back. He did not look over when Bruce sat up, throwing his feet off the side of the bed. He refused to look at the man as the bed dipped and soft lips pressed against his forehead.

"Jonathan." Bruce said softly, commandingly.

"Just go." he replied.

"Please." Bruce murmured, but his voice was firm.

Blue eyes closed, refusing to give into the man perched next to him. He heard Bruce sigh before lips met his own. Fingers threaded into his hair, gently holding him close.

Jonathan opened his eyes as Bruce pulled away. "I can't let anything happen to you." Bruce murmured.

"And if you don't come home because you had no one to watch your back?" Jonathan shot back.

"I can watch myself. I can't watch the two of us." Bruce shook his head.

"It is likely, Master Crane," the voice came from the doorway, "that Master Wayne would be far to busy watching over you to keep himself out of trouble."

Bruce looked to the man in the doorway. Alfred walked in as Bruce sat up and away from Jonathan. Alfred placed a tray on the bedside table, giving a nod to Bruce before looking to Jonathan.

"For you, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred." he nodded.

Bruce stood and took the tray, placing the tea and biscuits in Jonathan's lap. "Go ahead and read. I'll be back before you know it."

Jonathan scowled but took his book in hand. He held it up to his face but peered over the top to watch as Bruce left.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce glanced over as he pulled on yet another piece of the suit. "What is it, Alfred? Something on your mind?"

"Nothing, sir."

A sigh, then the billionaire said quietly. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"What do you mean?" Alfred wanted to hear Bruce explain it, even if he already had a fine idea of what was on the man's mind.

"He's an ex-Arkham inmate." Bruce took a breath. "But I brought him into my home, putting you in danger. When he ran away I  _fought to bring him back._ And he's..." he searched for the right word. "He's clinging to me...but-"

"Master Wayne." Alfred interrupted, walking slowly toward Bruce. "Not everything can be explained. I do know this. Master Crane appreciates your company more than he will ever let on. Possibly more than he will ever understand." Alfred paused. "Is it so ridiculous he wants to be certain of your safety?"

"He ran off, Alfred."

"You are the Batman, sir. I'm certain any 'ex-Arkham inmate' would be startled." Alfred said patiently. "You will also notice that he returned."

Bruce took his cowl in hand, staring at it. "Should I bring him with me, then?"

Alfred looked at him thoughtfully. "You will do what you believe is best, Master Wayne."

The cowl slipped on. "But what if I don't know what is best?"

-.-.-.-.-.-

The biscuits were gone in an hour. The tea only lasted half that long. Jonathan leaned against pillows reading well past dark, waiting for the Bat Man to retire and Bruce Wayne return to his bed.

Jonathan had drifted off to sleep by the time Bruce walked into the room. The light was off, courtesy of Alfred, but a book was still clutched tightly in his fingers. Bruce made his way through the dark, moving by the dim moonlight to the bed. He carefully loosened pale fingertips and set aside Jonathan's book.

Hands clenched into fists. "Bruce?" Jonathan mumbled sleepily.

"It's me." Bruce whispered. "Go back to sleep."

The billionaire smoothed back dark hair as blue eyes looked up at him, barely visible in the dark. "Are you coming to bed?"

"Yeah." he murmured.

Bruce slipped out of his sweatpants before making to pull back the covers. "Close the door."

The man obeyed without question. When he returned to the bed, Jonathan had pulled back the blankets for him. Bruce slipped in wordlessly, instantly finding a half-asleep man pressed against him.

"Jonathan?" Bruce questioned softly.

"Mm?"

The psychiatrist pressed his face into Bruce's shoulder as the latter murmured. "Maybe... when you're completely healed... you can come with me."

Jonathan raised his head from Bruce's shoulder, face framed by moonlight. Bruce clearly saw the shining smile he earned before the smaller man was pressing kisses to his face.

"I'll need my mask."

Fear gripped Bruce for a moment.  _Scarecrow._

But the man pressing soft kisses to his neck was not the Scarecrow. For better or for worse, the man in his bed and at his back, for as long as he would him, was Jonathan Crane.

"We'll get one for you." Bruce promised.

Jonathan snuggled against him, Bruce instinctively wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

At that moment, Bruce knew they could make it work. It may not be perfect, and it would definitely not be easy, but it would be theirs.


End file.
